Astronomy in Reverse
by Rorry Lamb
Summary: Her people are a passionate people. Loud and vibrant like a human firecracker. Not even her human blood could tame the passion in her. So why does she find herself so entranced by the Vulcan that teaches Advanced physics? It makes no sense to either of them and yet the first time their thoughts brush the only thing he can think is T'hy'la. After that? Things get a bit complicated.
1. Chapter 1

Henry Wolfe is a diplomat, hired by the federation to travel to distant planets to build bridges and make alliances, a task that is sometimes easier said than done. But he does love his job. He's always been good with people, a skill he'd perfected through years of appeasing his father. A skill he'd perfected after years of keeping his father from laying his hands on his children and his wife. So while his skills weren't a natural gift that doesn't mean he isn't the very best at what he does.

Because he is.

And so he travels of the U.S.S Archeron with a crew of over one hundred. He's relatively good friends with the captain and the Chief Engineer. Which is funny in a way... Henry never thought he'd much like being friends with an engineer. He's a bit of a neat freak you see and most engineers he's met aren't as careful about their appearance as he is.

But Sam is nice and he's funny as hell.

So when he isn't working or leading intergalactic relations meets Henry spends most of his time with Sam or Henry.

Today he just happens to be spending his time with Sam.

"Look, I'm just saying, Martha like you and I don't understand why you aren't at least considering it."

"Martha is recently widowed."

"Recently as in three years?"

Henry rolls her eyes, more amused that annoyed with his friend's insistence that he go and talk to the communication's officer on the Omega shift. She's pretty, yes, and she's really, very nice but... Henry just can't see himself in a relationship with her. And he's not going to lead her on by asking her out on a day over their next shore leave.

Sam wipes the sweat off of his forehead and turns his attention back to whatever it is he's building.

He's on break and even though he should be sleeping after working the alpha shift- and then pulling a shift for a kid working the beta shift who'd gotten some kind of bug- but instead he'd dragged Henry to the commissary so they could grab lunch and talk.

"It's not happening Sam."

"Alright, damn." The dark eyed engineer raises both hands into the air and shakes his head. "Will you at least think about getting some tail when we dock on, fuck what's the name of the planet? Adroilla?"

"Atrolla."

"Yes, thank you, Atrolla."

Henry drops his sandwich onto his plate, eyebrow raised, and turns his full attention to the engineer sitting across from him.

"You're fully aware I have a job to do once we've been cleared to transport down right?" He asks.

"I know you're a diplomat with a tree shoved so far up your ass it must be hard to take a shit sometimes." Sam laughs, ignoring the reprimanding look from the Andorian male sitting near them.

"You're an idiot." Henry points out.

"No, I'm realistic. Difference."

"Keep telling yourself that, mate."

The engineer snorts before turning his attention back to the machinery on the table. It's gotta be some kind of a gun or something. Maybe? Henry isn't sure. Either way he thinks Sam had better be damn careful with whatever the hell he's making. He has a tendency to blow stuff up, Sam does, and he tries to deny it but everyone knows it's true.

Sam Williams is a little more than accident prone.

"Look, just consider it yeah? If the women there have fangs and bite the heads off of their partners after sex then, yeah, don't tap that shit but I mean... What's the harm?"

"What the fuck are you even talking about, Williams?"

"Did you know praying mantis females bite the heads of their mates off? I didn't. Learned that from a Betazoid at the academy. He was studying Botany at the Academy."

"And how is that relevant to praying mantises?"

"I dunno, man. I was so sexed out I could barely keep my eyes open."

Henry grimaces as he takes a sip of his water.

"You're a pig." He says.

Sam smirks. "Never said I wasn't."

The thirty-year-old rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the food on his plate. It's going to be a long week if they get permission to transport down tomorrow and Henry doesn't think he's going to miss the food replicators on the ship but he's also not sure if he'll be able to handle Atrollian food. So he chows down and listens to Sam go on about this subject or that, offering little comments here or there, and he wonders if the people of Atrolla will be anything like the engineer.

If so, Henry doesn't think he's going to have much of a problem.

~X~

They get clearance to beam down to the capitol city of Atrolla.

Henry makes sure to dress to the very best of his abilities. Brushing his teeth twice, slicking back his hair, trimming his beard, smoothing down his finger nails, and spritzing a small- minuscule so as not to risk offending any sensitive noses he might come across- amount of cologne onto his neck. Then he puts on the suit he'd had pressed just the night before and slips into a pair of leather shoes.

He's very pleased with the image he presents.

Without much though Henry grabs him Comm device and a Padd off of his beside table before making his way out of his assigned room.

He and a small team will be transporting down to Atrolla in less than an hour and he needs to be in the transporter room as soon as possible. He doesn't like being late anyway but being late to a meeting with the Atrollians is unthinkable.

It's unacceptable.

Henry's done some research on the Atrollians. Nothing major, just what whoever Captain Weiber spoke to the day before. But from what Henry's read most Atrollians believe that tardiness is a sign of disrespect, especially in matters of business and politics. Henry can respect that. So he's not going to be late.

When he reaches the transporter room the Captain is waiting for him alongside Doctor Mathias Harper and the communication's officer of the Alpha shift. Henry has only met him once but he's a prick. Good at his job. But a prick none-the-less.

"Are you ready, Mr. Wolfe?" The captain inquires, adjusting the gold shirt of his uniform.

"I was born ready, Xander." He laughs, making his way to the platform where the others are beginning to line up.

"Good. We'll need you at your best today."

Yes, because the captain read the same information Henry did and they both know that while the Atrollians are a peaceful race they aren't exactly docile. They're just as dangerous as any other foreign race the Federation deals with. Sure, they might not be Klingon but they're still dangerous. If today doesn't go well...

Henry smiles.

"Don't worry about me. I'm not the one you need to watch out for." He laughs before flicking his chin in the linguistic standing off to the side.

Xander snorts, "Just watch yourself out there today."

"I could say the same to you, Captain." Henry retorts.

The shorter man rolls his eyes before turning his attention to the man waiting outside the platform.

"Energize." He barks.

And the red shirt nods briskly before pressing his fingers into a button.

Henry's never been a fan of transporter technology. Sure, it makes traveling much easier but Henry's never actually enjoyed the experience. It makes his head hurt. Which is weird because it's not supposed to do that but for some reason it does and Henry hates it.

So when he finally feels solid ground beneath his feet again Henry lets out a relieved breath before promptly sucking it back in when he sees the men and women standing around him.

The first thing he notices about the people of Atrolla is that they're rather colorful. Their hair comes in a variety of exotic colors, from dark reds to soft lilacs and vibrant greens. He notices that the males tend to have darker colors than the women. But even then Henry doesn't think he's ever seen a species more colorful then the humanoid men and women standing around him.

But the thing that catches his eye is the golden sheen to their skin and their eyes.

"Welcome, Captain Weiber," a tall man in richly colored clothes calls as he steps forward, "I am Diru, Senator of this Provence. My brothers and sisters have been awaiting your arrival."

Henry watches, fascinated, as the few remaining strands of red in the man's hair gleams like fire as he walks toward them. It's almost enough to distract from the translator coiled around the man's neck.

To his left Weiber bows his head.

"You have my thanks, Senator Diru. I hope we are able to build a friendship, your people and mine." The captain says.

And Henry wants to beat his head against the nearest wall. Because the Captain's politeness sounds a bit forced and that isn't good for business.

But the Atrollian smiles kindly and turns so that he can gesture to the large building behind him.

"As do I, Captain Weiber. Come, you will be shown to your quarters. You are honored guests after all."

Then the man turns and makes his way toward the building, careful to keep himself just in front of the visiting party. As he moves the Atrollians around them shift and move, some of them bow their heads while others offer polite smiles. None of them move to speak as the elder leads them into a large building. Henry thinks it might be a respect thing.

He's not sure though.

"You will each be assigned a translator and a guide. They will ensure that you reach wherever it is you wish to go without problem. You will be shown to your quarters and in one of your standard hours the senate will gather to discuss matters of the provinces, which will include the matter of your Federation."

"So soon?" Doctor Harper asks, eyes wide.

Henry speaks before the Senator can, "We appreciate your consideration Elder Diru, truly."

The elderly man smiles, painted lips peeling back over slightly pointed teeth. It would be discomforting if his eyes weren't so kind.

"It is no trouble, young Wolfe, we are very eager to learn of your Federation." He ensures.

"As are we," Henry says.

They receive another kind eyed smile from the man as they slip into the main hall of the richly decorated building.

"This is the Senate building. All meetings are held in the North Solar Hall, you're quarters are in the west wing. Unfortunately I was unable to convince the rest of the Senate to allow you accommodations in the South wing with the other Senators but... Well, some are more wary of your visit than I."

"Are you not?" Captain Weiber asks.

And the Senator's bronze eyes gleam as he says, "When you have lived as long as I, youngling, you learn a great many things about people. I do not think you are here to do my people harm therefore I am not suspicious of your presence. It is as simple as that."

Henrys frowns a bit.

The senator in front of him is awfully jovial for a man who is about to do political business with races he has never before heard of. Political business With a Federation that until mere hours ago was nothing but possible fantasy. Henry's met naturally jovial people before, this isn't anything new, but he's a little taken aback by the man. Just a little bit.

As they make their way through the Senate Building Henry makes small talk with Senator Diru. Nothing overly personal. The Senator might not be suspicious of them but it's quite obvious he won't be discussing the weaknesses of his people with a group who are yet to be determined as friend or foe. But he does tell them about exported good and the difference between Terran music and Atrollian music. It's an interesting conversation to say the least.

So when they stop before a series of doors something like disappointment flares in Henry's gut.

"These are your quarters. Please, make yourself comfortable." Senator Diru says, turning to walk away, "Your guides will arrive shortly."

Once the Senator is making his way back down the hall Henry turns to open the door to the room he's been given. It slides open as Henry steps closer, revealing a room filled with plush furniture and colorful mosaics. Henry turns to his companion.

They look just as stunned as he feels.

"Until later gentlemen." He says before stepping into his room.

The door slides shut behind him.

~X~

When the door swings open several minutes later he's sitting on the couch near the window, his PADD in his hands, and a glass of something that tastes a little bit like coffee resting on the low table in front of him.

He looks away from the PADD and the information he'd been going over for this particular meeting to see a boy with blue hair and wide honey colored eyes staring at him.

Henry smilles.

"Hello." He says.

And the boy moves closer.

"Greeting Henry Wolfe, my name is Venbo, I have been assigned as your guide."

"Is it time for the Senator meeting?" Henrys finds himself asking.

"Yes, I've been asked to escort your to the North Solar Hall."

"Well, I'd hate to keep them waiting." Henry smiles as the child nods his head and turns on his heel.

The walk to the North Solar Hall isn't very long. Henry thinks that might be because the kid in front of him is practically sprinting, forcing Henry into a brisk walk to keep up. And when the two of them reach the large, ornate doors of the North Solar Hall there is already a small group waiting.

Xander, Mathias, and the linguist.

Beside them are three children. All with hair colored in varying shades of blue which makes Henry wonder if the little guides assigned to them are siblings. There's only one girl in the group and she sticks close to Mathias, watching as he tells her about his job.

She seems fascinated.

Henry finds himself wondering if she'll end up joinging Starfleet if everything goes to plan today.

Minutes pass and when Mathias asks what's taking so long the little girl beside him explains that this particular Senate meeting had been scheduled for some time. And seeing as these meetings are the only time all of the Senators are in the same room they'd been forced to deal with matters of the provinces before discussing the Federation.

Henry understands that.

So when the doors slide open and the children snap to attention, whispering that it's time, Henry merely smooths down his jacket and follows the children into the room.

"The meeting to discuss the joining of Atrolla to the United Federation of Planets is now in session, step forth Ambassador Wolfe."

Henry isn't nervous. This isn't his first rodeo. But there's always room for mistakes and so Henry takes a steadying breath before following the child out onto the platform in the middle of the room. It'll allow the men and women in the seats around the room to see him without issue.

"Thank you, Senators, for meeting with me on such short notice." Henry says, voice carrying through the room. "The United Federation of Planets is an interstellar federal republic composed of planetary governments that agree to exist semi-autonomously under a single central government based on the principles of Universal liberty, rights, equality, and to share their knowledge and resources in peaceful cooperation, scientific developments, space exploration and defense purposes."

A quick glance around the room shows that the colorful men and women have given him their undivided attention. They're interested, curious even. This is good. It means Henry has a chance of getting them to agree to join the Federation.

"The United Federation of Planets encompasses eight thousand light-years and of the one hundred fifty planets to have willingly joined none has be undermined or diminished. Each planet is considered equal in the Federation's Democracy."

"And in this democracy your Federation has created," A man's voice says, "how are planets to govern their own people? Are their representatives? If so where is the heart of your Federation of Planets?"

Henry turns toward the voice, careful to scan the seats. He doesn't know who spoke but he thinks it might have been the green haired man with the sun colored eyes. He offered a polite smile.

"Senator, I assure you that the Federation does not stop the governing of planets. The only thing we ask is for the planets of the Federation to follow a few simple laws that were created to ensure the safety of those in the Federation." Henry continues with a polite grin.

"And the representatives?"

"That depends on the planet. Normally there is only one or two representatives from each planet that come to earth to sit in for the Federation Council. However, larger planets are known to sometimes have three or four representatives. Each representative is voted on by either the people or, perhaps in this case, on other political leaders."

"Earth? Is that the planet on which the Federation meets?"

"Yes, Earth has many embassies and it is also where Starfleet Academy- an educational institution for those who wish to explore space as well as possibly defend Federation Planets- was build." Henry replies.

And then the question he always dreads.

"You've made mention of defense more than once, Ambassador Wolfe, does your Federation typically require military actions?"

Henry turns, ready to answer the way he always does, but stops when he makes eye contact with the woman who spoke.

She's... Terrifying.

Beautiful with her tanned flesh and vibrantly pink hair, eyes like molten gold framed by a curtain of dark magenta eyelashes. She's wearing a black dress held to her body by a series of metal bands that wrap around her neck before dropping down where they wrap around the space between her collarbones and cleavage as well as around her waist.

What's terrifying about her is the intensity of her face.

It is a face of a woman who would set entire worlds ablaze to protect her own.

"Senator..."

"Sermari Alrix."

"Senator Alrix," Henrys takes a breath. "While the primary purpose of the Federation is not to spread war or violence we do have enemies. Some of which we've yet to meet. To teach the Cadets at Starfleet how to react in the event of an attack is the only way to ensure that we can protect those who need protecting."

"And what do you do with these _enemies_ after you have met them?" The woman demands, voice cold and distant. "Would we be considered enemies if we do not join your Federation?"

"No Senator Alrix, the Federation would respect your decision to remain a separate government. There have been other planets to do the same. The Klingons for example. We are not allies of the Klingon Empire but the Federation has created a treaty of sorts that has cut out a specific section of space that is considered Klingon territory."

"And does your Federation have dealings with these Klingons?"

"No, we do not."

The woman leans back in her seat, eyes burning.

Something in Henry's gut tightens. She will be the one he has to convince. The others seem interested enough and if they have hesitations they're keeping them to themselves. This woman, however, is not.

But as Henry's attention is pulled away from the woman to another senator who has questions about the laws of the Federation Henry finds himself growing more and more nervous.

If the other senators have the same reservations as Sermari Alrix then Henry might have more trouble then he thought. Oh, he's not saying it'll be unlikely for the Atrollians to join the Federation. He just thinks it might take a bit more work is all.

So he tells them about the medical advancements and the scientific discoveries and the planets the Federation has helped. He tells them about Starfleet and his experience with the Academy. He tells them the good and the bad. Because Henry wants this planet to join the Federation but he doesn't think keeping things from these people will benefit him in any way.

"There is much to discuss Ambassador Wolfe," Diru says after a long moment. "Your guides will take you on a tour of the city and when the Senate has reached a decision you will be informed."

Henry wasn't expecting an immediate answer.

"Thank you Senators, truly."

Then he's being guided out of the room and into the hall alongside the small group he'd arrived with.

Behind him the doors slide shut and seal, locking the group out of the North Solar Hall until they're summoned again or the Senators decide what they're going to do.

Henry turns to his guide.

"Venbo?"

"Yes, Ambassador Wolfe?"

"Would you mind showing us a good place to eat? I think my companions might be a bit famished."

The blue haired boy nods very slowly.

"Yes of course, follow us please."

And then the little blue haired children lead them away from the North Solar Hall and out of the Senate building.

~X~

The Atrollians have agreed to join the United Federation of Planets.

Henry thinks the Federation will benefit from having the Atrollians as an ally planet. Not only is the planet rich in natural resources but the planet's technology is fascinating. It doesn't hurt that the planet is more of a tropical paradise than anything else. He thinks that in a few years Atrolla will be getting a lot of tourists from other Federation Planets.

He'd be studying them, their culture and their way of life, on his PADD right now if he hadn't been invited to the Senators Ball- an event that is held after every Senate meeting. It's really more of a dinner than a ball. Henry thinks they only call it a ball because it sounds better than _The Senators Dinner_. Henry sighs. He'd much rather be in his quarters studying the Atrollian's culture.

"You seem displeased to be here, Ambassador Wolfe."

Startled he looks up, eyes wide, to find Sermari Alrix standing beside him.

She's changed clothes. Instead of the black dress she'd been wearing earlier she's wearing a blue. All plunging neckline and sharp edges. It looks like she's wearing ice. Ice and snow and winter winds.

A stunning contrast to the hair piles atop her head.

"Not at all, Senator Alrix... I was just thinking."

Molten eyes stare at him for a long moment. They gleam and shift and enrapture him. Then she smiles. A distant thing but so very, very kind. Henry thinks that while pleasant it is a stark change to the icy distance she'd shown earlier that day.

"About my people or our technology?"

"Would it be wrong of me to say both?"

The woman lowers herself into the chair across from him. No. She drapes herself across the chair. Like one of the women from the paintings made in the Italian Renaissance. Elegant and elusive.

Beautiful.

"No, I was curious as well," a pause. "You are a fascinating man."

Henry takes a sip of whatever liquor is in his glass. He misses the way Sermari's eyes linger on the rim of the glass and the stem where he'd been holding it.

"You did your research I see."

"Yes. You were top of your class as Starfleet Academy, you majored in Political Sciences, you are highly intelligent... And you are fairly attractive." Sermari says, and she must see something in his face because she continues with a soft, "I studied the public records offered to us by the Federation."

"Oh."

A moment of tense silence.

"I would like to apologize for my earlier hostility. You were undeserving of it and I apologize."

"Something tells me you don't apologize often."

"Because I do not."

Henry nods.

Neither does he. Not unless he has too. Without much thought Henry raises his glass back to his mouth. It's sweet, like apple cider. He empties the glass and when he goes to set it aside Sermari is already motioning for a waiter to bring two more of the sweet tasting drinks.

Henry is surprisingly delighted that the beautiful Senator is choosing to sit and drink with him.

The two of them sit and talk, more and more glasses of the sweet tasting liquor finding their way to their table. And by the end of the night they are both well into their cups- though Sermari appears to be handling it better than Henry will ever hope to- and Henry finds himself asking if Sermari would like to accompany him to his quarters.

He's not expecting her to agree.

He's not expecting anything really.

But Sermari Alrix offers a gentle smile as she moves to stand and place her hand in the crook of his elbow.

And so he takes the alien women to his room. It's stupid, in the back of his drunken mind he knows this, but she is lovely and he has never truly wanted a women like he wants this woman. So he takes her to bed. Because he wants to, because she wants to.

In the moments after the act is done Henry finds himself tracing his fingers down the woman's spine where the skin is more golden hued than tan. He watches as the city lights cast shadows across her face and put streaks of purple and green in the pink of her hair.

He watches even as the dark haze of sleep takes him.

And he dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

Sermari Alrix slips out of Henry Wolfe's room the next morning well before the twin suns that circle around Atrolla rise up into the sky. She pulls on the dress she'd so carefully laid across a chair the night before. The dress is a bit rumpled but she's hardly worried about it, no one's going to comment on the state of her dress. Not when they already know where she'd spent her night.

"Is it customary for your people to leave your partners after sex?"

Sermari smirks as she adjusts the plunging neckline so that her breasts don't tumble out when she's in the hall.

"No," Sermari replies as she moves to sit on the edge of the Ambassador's bed. "But it is customary for my people to rise early."

"I see."

Henry Wolfe moves to sit up in the bed, the muscles in his arms flexing just enough to temp Semari back into the bed.

She refrains, however, but allows the man to press a chaste kiss to the back of her neck. He's certainly more affectionate than Sermari's previous lovers, gentle and tender. She's almost not used to the softness of him. It's nice, yes, but she's not quite sure how to handle it.

Her people are not cruel, they are not a people built of hate or pain. But they are a passionate people and Sermari is... No less passionate then the next Atrollian woman and to have such a gentle lover as Henry Wolfe? Well, it's not a terrible thing but it's certainly not something she's used to. Without much thought Sermari reaches back to drag her nails over the delicate skin covering Henry Wofle's shoulder.

A gentle groan again her skin and the hint of a tongue on the ridge of her spine has Sermari's breath catching in her throat.

"We leave in a week, back to Earth, and I would like to see you again." Henry whispers against her neck.

Sermari laughs.

"Is that so? Has the little Atrollian Senator captured the heart of the savage Terran?" Sermari jokes.

Behind her Henry wraps his arms around her waist, dragging her back so that she's forced to lay across the bed and across the lap of the man who runs his hands through her hair.

Beyond the grand window near the bed the Capital City shines bright. Sermari watches as transport units shoot here and there, little pinpoints of silver in the orange-pink hue that signals the setting of the planet's two moons and the rising of the sun. It's beautiful. Not so beautiful as the sights from Hallitus- the city where Sermari was born and raised.

But it is lovely, none-the-less.

"Hardly." The man snorts.

Relief bubbles in Sermari's chest.

She does not know enough about human males to know their beliefs. She had read enough to know that sex is not equal to marriage, she would not have come to his room if it were, but she is aware that not all men are the same.

"Good." Sermari allows herself a smile. "I would like to see you again as well."

After that there's not many other reasons to stay in bed with Henry Wolfe. Not when they both have other things to do and the day is young. Sermari removes herself from the bed, attempting to smooth out the rumples lines in her skirt for a brief moment before moving to where her shoes are lying near the door. She slips them on with ease and straightens.

Henry Wolfe has gotten out of bed as well, although he isn't hovering around Sermari as she might have suspected a lesser man to do. Instead he's making his way to the fresher.

Sermari leaves.

She has several meetings today that she needs to get ready for and the two of them have already expressed their wishes to see each other again. So there's really no reason for her to stick around.

The door shuts behind her with a gentle swoosh.

While there is no one in the hall Sermari does not linger. Not because she is ashamed of the time she spent with Henry Wolfe, but because her first meeting is in less than three hours and Sermari really doesn't have the luxury of lingering in the halls talking to other Senators or anyone else who works in the Senate Building. Besides, she'd really does need to bathe.

So the pink haired Senator makes her way down the halls to her own assigned quarters.

There is a dress laying out on her bed when she enters the room which means Taza has only recently left and had taken the liberty of deciding what Sermari should wear for the day. It's a nice gesture but the senator will not be wearing the mass of green Fabric. Not today. She'll have to have a talk with the orange haired female. They might be friends, close friends even, but Sermari isn't sure how she feels about the other Senator entering her rooms without permission.

Especially if she'd going through Sermari's things.

With a sigh the Senator makes her way over to the closet where she keeps her clothing and grabs a sand colored dress made of sheer fabric with a leather cord around the waist. It's not her favorite dress but it's beautiful, comfortable, and Sermari's going to be on her feet all day.

The green dress goes back into the closet before Sermari makes her way into the fresher.

~X~

"It is likely the Capital City will soon become a travel destination for many off worlders." Diru says.

Sermari nods, "Yes. The Capital City and Hallitus and Shialbi."

"Does this displease you?"

"Should it?"

To their left a group of younglings are playing in the shade of a tree.

This is not the first time Sermari has visited the public gardens. The Capital city has many sights but even then there is not much greenery. Sermari thinks it's peaceful here, Diru thinks it's beautiful.

This is the first time in months the two of them have been able to discuss personal or public matters without having to worry about being interrupted.

 _The disadvantages of being a Senator_ , Sermari thinks as Diru leads her to a long bench.

"I suppose not," the older male says, "but then... Hallitus is lovely this time of year and as I suspect many will come to, what is the word, sight see? Well, it will likely be your province they come to."

"And so they shall come. Who am I to deny them the pleasure of seeing my home?"

"There are some who would not say the same."

"We have become a Federation Planet, there will be elections for who will represent out planet, and whoever is chosen will have to work with off wolders. It is not our place to be hostile with our allies."

And it really isn't.

Whether or not Sermari is chosen to be the representative of Atrolla is of little difference to her. It's all politics anyway. What matters is that she will be dealing with off worlders no matter the circumstances. If her people do not like it then that's their problem. Sermari's job is to keep her people safe and well provided for. If allowing those of another world into her home will do that then who is Sermari to complain?

Besides, Hallitus has many exportable goods.

Perhaps it will be possible to bring more revenue for her province this way.

"Speaking of the Federation, what does your relationship with Ambassador Wolfe entail?" Diru asks.

And he's trying to be polite, distant, but Sermari has known the Senator since she was a youngling and it's so very obvious that he is concerned.

"There is nothing between Ambassador Wolfe and myself. I assure you."

"It gladdens my heart to hear." a pause. "I worry about you, Sermari."

"You have every right to worry. You have been the closest thing to a father I have ever had."

The aged Atrollian nods. "If it is as you say then I have nothing to worry about... Do you hope to be elected as the representative?"

"Hardly. I'm perfectly content where I am."

"But if you are elected?"

"Then I will travel to Earth and sit in as a Representative on the Federation Council."

"I think you would make a good representative."

"I make a good Senator as well."

"That you do."

Silence falls between them.

Sermari leans back, crosses her legs, and watches as the little ones dart in and out of the shade as they chase one another through the gardens. Something twists in her gut as she watches them.

It's not as if she cannot have babes, her body is more than capable of carrying a babe to term, but Sermari is a Senator and she has no mate... Not that having a made means she cannot have a babe. It really wouldn't matter either way. Sermari is perfectly capable of caring for a youngling on her own. In fact, it would be preferred. Less arguing over how to raise the babe, she supposes.

"Are you to meet with Senator Vaanosh?"

"Yes, today after the midday meal."

"A personal visit or political?"

"Both. Vaanosh is a friend but we need to discuss the possibility of one of us being sent off planet. There is a fair bit of trade between our provinces and as we are close friends we want to make sure things are settled before anyone is elected to be the Representative."

"I see." Diru pulls a red streaked braid over his shoulder as stands. "Do send him my regards, yes?"

"Yes of course."

"A good day to you, Senator."

"And to you."

Sermari watches him leave, watches the gold in his vest gleaming brightly. Once he's rounded a bend and disappeared Sermari moves to return to the Senate Building, there's no other reason for her to linger here in the gardens and she'll be meeting with Vaanosh soon it's best she leave soon anyway. It wouldn't do to be late to a meeting with the man.

Vaanosh can be a bit of a handful when he's annoyed.

They've agreed to meet at a restaurant near the Senate Building. It's a personal favorite of Sermari's. She's especially in love with the Oedemara. Of course, Vaanosh has never been particularly fond of the spices in the dish, nor has he been particularly fond of the tenderness of the mountain bird's meat.

But Sermari loves it.

So when she slips into the transport carriage hailed for her by one of the guards assigned to her the young Senator offers the man a bright smile. He offers one in return as he shuts the door.

Then the transport carriage is moving, slipping through the streets just as silently as the other transport units that hover over the ground. They slip around each other, weaving through the streets, lingering at the fronts of buildings for but a moment before zipping off again. Sermari would much rather be flying but she supposes the transport units have their advantages.

Three streets and a left turn later Sermari is making her way into the lavishly furnished restaurant where Vaanosh is waiting on one of the padded benches along the wall where patrons wait when there isn't a table open for them.

"Hello Vaanosh." Sermari greets, pressing a chaste kiss to her friend's cheek.

Purple hair tickles her temple as the male pulls away.

"Sermari, a pleasure as always. Come, our table is ready."

The male leads Sermari through the richly decorated restaurant to a table near a window with a lovely view of the Capital City.

Once the two of them are settled a waiter comes to deliver the drinks Vaanosh has obviously ordered before Sermari arrived. Their waiter lingers only long enough to take their order before darting off, to attend another table or put in their order Sermari doesn't necessarily care. She's too busy listening to Vaanosh talk about the gift he'd bought for his mate. The liquor in Sermari's drink shines silver in the light and slips easily down her throat.

She makes a sound as she sets the glass back on the table.

"How is Dedeli? Well I hope."

"She is very well, Sermari, thank you for your concern."

"I am glad to hear it."

"Have you spoken to Diru recently? He seems rather proud of himself."

Sermari doesn't comment on the change of topic. It's no secret to anyone that Vaanosh's relationship with his mate has been on the rocks since the death of their son. No one really speaks of it. It's not anyone's business but Vaanosh's and Dedeli's. But Sermari has always been a friend to both of them and she knows a fair bit more about the turbulence in their relationship then she would like to.

She offers her advice when it is wanted and keeps her mouth shut when it is not.

And righ now Vaanosh does not want to talk about the death of his son nor his relationship with Dedeli. Sermari can respect that. So she just flips her hair over her shoulder and offers a one shouldered shrug.

"Why wouldn't he be? He is the one who advocated the Federation." Sermari explains.

"A bit strange don't you think?"

"If it were anyone else, yes, but Diru is aging and doesn't every senator want his or her last acts to be memorable."

Vaanosh raises a dark eyebrow. "And insisting Atrolla join the Federation is memorable?"

"I think that the end results could be memorable." Sermari says.

"Let me guess, you've done your research."

"Enough to know that our planet joining the Federation offers a semblance of safety for our people." Sermari runs the pad of her finger over the delicate stem of her glass. "And that is what Diru wants."

"Safety?"

"Something like that, yes."

Vaanosh sighs.

"Do you think it was a bad idea?"

"Joining the Federation? Perhaps. It's too early to tell."

And it _is_ too early.

Sermari has never been a lover of violence. The last thing she wants to do is involve her people in a war, especially when the people of Atrolla wouldn't have been involved if they hadn't joined the Federation. But Sermari is also a senator and as a senator it is her job to protect not only her people but her allies as well. And the Federation is an ally of Atrolla now.

Whether or not such an alliance will end in disaster is yet to be seen.

But... Well, Sermari doubts it will end poorly.

From what she's learned about the Federation- through the information provided by Ambassador Wolfe and what she's been able to find in the Federation database- Sermari thinks that having Atrolla allied with the Federation will be more beneficial than harmful. Her people will be able to attend Starfleet Academy in coming year or so, beings from other Federation planets will come to Atrolla for pleasure and business, her people will have access to things they might not have had access to otherwise.

Their waiter returns with their food some time later, dishes resting in his hands, and he smiles as he flits away.

Sermari cuts into the tender flesh of the Oedemar, pointedly ignoring the look Vaanosh is giving her. What does it matter if she likes the damned bird or not? It's not like her eating it is hurtning Vaanosh.

With renewed vigor Sermari takes a bite of the cooked bird.

Smiling to herself when Vaanosh scowls.

She lives for the little things in life, it would appear.

~X~

When Sermari returns to her quarters in the Senate building there is a man waiting by her door. Not just any man either. Ambassador Wolfe. He lingers by the door, the cream of his suit bright against the bland grey of the wall behind him. He looks... Rather dapper.

Sermari smiles as she stops in front of him.

"Did you miss me so much, Ambassador, that you couldn't resist seeing me again?"

"Something like that."

"Come in then."

And she moves around him to type her access code into the panel next to the wall. Each senator gets one. A way to protect a Senator's personal items as well as the Senator. Sermari appreciates the effort but thinks that the guards lingering along the hall are more than capable of keeping her safe. But as the Senator steps into her quarters the Senator finds herself appreciating the fact that no one can just walk in... Well, aside from Taza perhaps.

Without much thought the girl reaches to undo the tie holding her belt around her waist, the braided leather heavy beneath her fingers. Once it's removed Sermari shrugs out of her dress, exposing the golden hued flesh that ls so very common among her people.

There's a choked cough behind her.

Ambassador Wolfe must not have been expecting her to be so casual with her nudity.

Which is ridiculous seeing as they've had sex.

"Why _are_ you here, Ambassador?"

"Xander and Mathias are visiting some science building or another and our linguist is discussing something with one of the Senators."

"And you chose to visit me?"

"I sought out your company because I find you interesting."

Sermari reaches for the robe draped across her bed, pulling the soft fabric over her exposed flesh, before turning around to face the human male standing awkwardly by her door.

She motions around.

"You _can_ sit." Sermari says.

And the man blushes a dark red before taking a seat on the long couch. Sermari watches as the man crosses his legs, uncrosses them, and crosses them again. And she realizes that he's nervous. But why? Sermari has already expressed her desire to sleep with him again and she's hasn't been openly hostile toward the man since she'd questioned his intentions the day before.

So why is he acting like Sermari is going to tear out his throat?

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why would you think anything is wrong?"

"You're nervous."

"Oh, uh, I just didn't think you'd be free when I came looking for you."

A laugh pulls itself from Sermari's mouth before she moves across the room to straddle the ambassador's lap.

He lays his hands on her thighs, just under the hem of her robe, and idly draws a little pattern on the soft flesh with the pad of his thumb. Sermari reaches up to play with the dark curls sprouting from the man's head. The strands are soft between her fingers. She enjoys playing with them.

Beneath her the Terran ambassador shiver. His grip on her thighs tighten a bit before the man carefully releases her thigh. There will likely be a bruise tomorrow, not that Sermari minds that much. A few bruises are nothing.

Certainly not the worst she's ever received.

"So did you come for sex or did you come for my stellar company?"

"Can it be both?"

Sermari smiles, a wicked little thing that's all teeth and promises and gleaming mischief.

"It most certainly can, Ambassador Wolfe. It most certainly can."

~X~

A week later the ambassador leaves with the rest of the small landing party Sermari watches as his body disappears in a swirl of silver-blue light. Something like mild disappointment bubbling in her gut. But it's a fleeting sensation. Here one second and gone within minutes. Sermari doesn't think much of it after that. Instead she focuses her attention on meetings and politics.

And for a time that's perfectly alright.

She manages to meet a few ambassadors from other planets in the weeks after Atrolla becomes a federation planet. They flock to the green planet, bringing with them culture and business and new interests.

But as more time passes Sermari becomes more and more aware that something is wrong.

It starts with her not being able to keep anything down for long, after that her dresses start getting a bit tighter, and something in the back of her mind is screaming at her. Telling her what all the signs are pointing too but... But she has to be _certain_. So the moment she returns to Hallitus, the city where she was born and raised, the pink haired Senator calls in a favor a friend owes her.

Rafi is a doctor, a damn good one, and if anyone knows how to keep their mouth shut it's her.

And the other woman doesn't ask questions when Sermari demands that the appointment be held in the privacy of Sermari's home. Rafi just says it will be a little bit before she can gather all of the necessary equipment.

Because if Sermari is pregnant, and it's very likely she is, then Rafi will have to run a couple of tests to make sure the babe is healthy.

Within an hour or so of the initial call the man who hires the staff and runs Sermari's household while she's away appears int he sitting room with a green haired woman trailing behind. While the man, Pomid, leaves the room Sermari watches as her friend sets her equipment on a table pressed against the wall. Watches as Rafi grabs a small rectangular device before she makes her way over to where Sermari is sitting.

"Alright, shirt up." Rafi commands, squatting on the floor in front of Sermari's chair.

And Sermari carefully pulls the hem of her black shirt up over her middle. She's thankful that the swell of her middle, nonexistent before now, is slight. Still small enough to conceal beneath her clothes.

Rafi offers a gentle smile as she holds the device over Sermari's stomach, slowly running the little beeping hunk of machinery left and right across the golden hued flesh.

Eventually Rafi sighs, leaning back on her heels, pulling the device closer so that she can look at the results.

"Well?" Sermari demands.

"Looks like I'll be a family doctor from now on."

Sermari swears.

It isn't that she doesn't want a youngling. She's never put much thought into it before but she doesn't find the notion unappealing. It's just that this isn't how she'd expected it to happen.

"What are the risks of keeping it?"

Rafi offers a shrug as she moves to sit across from Sermari.

"Impossible to say, really."

"If you were me what would you be worried about?"

"I don't know, Sermari." Rafi sighs. "If it were a pure blooded Atrollian I'd tell you to start eating and sleeping better but as it's not an Atrollian I don't know what to tell you."

"Would having information on its father's people help?"

"Sermari, I already have information on the father's people. I've been given more information then I know what to do with most of the time. Look, just make an appointment and we'll keep an eye on it."

"Alright." Sermari's words are choked.

And suddenly there's a hand reaching out to press against her knee.

"Look, I'm your friend and I'm here for you. I will do everything I can to make sure that you and this baby make it through this in one piece."

"Thank you, Rafi."

"Of course." A slight pause. "Make sure you come see me sometime, yes? It's easier for me to keep you both healthy if you come to my office."

"Not fond of home visits?"

Rafi smirks and shakes her head. "Not really, no."

It makes Sermari laugh, the familiarity of it.

She finds herself nodding, the hem of her shirt rising slightly as she runs a hand through her hair.

"Alright, Rafi. I'll be sure to make an appointment."

"Thank you."

And the relief is almost enough to make Sermari feel something akin to guilt. But not quite. Instead something warm swallows the unpleasant pinch in her gut. Because Rafi cares, she cares so fucking much that she's offered no judgement, she's even promised to care for the youngling growing inside Sermari, not because she has too but because they are friends and Rafi cares. Probably more then she should but she cares none the less. And that means more to the pink haired senator then Rafi will ever know.

~X~

The baby in Sermari's womb is developing differently then a typical Atrollian youngling would. Sermari isn't worried. Rafi assured her at their last appointment that, yes, the baby was developing faster than normal but that there were no complications or issues. So she's not necessarily worried about the baby developing in her body. She is, however, worried when she goes into labor in the middle of a dinner she's sharing with Diru- who has come all the way from the Capital City to visit her.

Thankfully Diru is much calmer then she is. Guiding her to the transport unit Pomid has called for with a gentle hand and soothing words, he holds her hand and rubs her back, tells her that everything is going to be just fine.

 _Just fine indeed._

Soon enough they reach the hospital and Diru leads Sermari into the building with a calming smile.

There is no asking if she would like him to stay, no hesitance when the nurses ask if he will be staying for the birth. Diru is more of a father to Sermari than anything and she finds that she does not want to be alone. Not for this. Because if something happens to her she wants her baby to go to Diru. So she tightens her grip on his hand and offers a pained grin when he says that he will stay.

After that the nurses guide Sermari to a room where Rafi will deliver her baby.

It's a relatively fast process. The nurses hook her up to a machine that will keep track of her vitals as well as deliver any medications or fluids she might need during the birth. They flit around, avoiding Rafi who waits between Sermari's legs, and carefully moving around the android that stands passively in the corner. He's a last resort. Only there to ensure that the baby survives if something were to happen to Sermari that would require Rafi's immediate attention.

Sermari makes a point to ignore the android.

Which isn't hard when Rafi is guiding her legs into position on the bed and Diru is holding her hand, stroking back sweat soaked hair. Sermari's grip on Diru's hand tightens as a sharp pain tears at her body.

"Alright, Sermari, it's time to push." Rafi says, voice calm and soothing.

So she pushes.

She pushes and pushes and pushes some more, squeezing Diru's hand, crying out on occasion. Above her the machinery she's hooked too beeps in time to steady thump of her heart against her sternum. It's almost hypnotic. And for a moment Sermari finds herself caught up in it before Rafi telling her that she can see a head of the baby.

Sermari pushes a little harder after that, eager to hold and touch and see.

In a matter of minutes the sharp wail of a baby rips through the air. It seems to drown everything else out and rip the air from Sermari's lungs and bring tears to her eyes all at once. But she doesn't actually cry, not until Rafi disappears and returns carrying a bundle of carefully wrapped grey fabric.

"It's a girl." Rafi says.

And the pink haired Senator cries as she brings the little squealing bundle closer to her chest.

~X~

"What will you name her?" Diru inquires once the nurses have gone and Rafi has left to give Sermari her privacy.

"Ismae," Sermari practically whispers as she lazily traces her thumb over the golden bridge of her babe's nose. "She will be Ismae."

"It suits her."

Sermari smiles.

"It means Divine Warrior in the old tongue."

Beside her Diru makes a sound in the back of his throat. It might be a laugh. It might not be. Sermari can't bring herself to truly care about that. Because the little one squirming in Sermari's arms is nothing _but_ divine.

There's a thatch of hair atop her head, dark at the roots with brilliant chunks of pink just a bright as Sermari's own, her eyes are wide and the familiar hazy yellow that will settle into the gold of her mother's people, and her flesh is tanned with a golden hue along her cheekbones and the bridge of her node and the soft curve of her collarbone and down the length of her little spine.

She is stunning.

Without a doubt the most beautiful thing Sermari has every seen in her entire life.

"She will be beautiful." Diru says after a long moment.

"She already is." Sermari replies.

Then she's holding the baby out to the elderly Atrollian, who raises a vibrantly red eyebrow before taking the squirming mass into his arms. For a moment Ismae grunts and whimpers, for a moment Sermari thinks the little one might start crying, but within moments she settles. And the smile that spreads across Diru's face is without a doubt the second most heartwarming thing Sermari has ever witnessed.

Soon she will have to call for Rafi so that she can take care of the necessary paperwork but for now she's more then content to sit and watch as Diru coos at the little one in his arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Ismae sits in the shade of a Rekeambi tree, curled up among the twisted roots, a book cradled so very carefully in her grasp. It'd been a gift from Diru, one of many. Bought from a human that specializes in the revival of old books. And Rupi Kaur is a very old poet. Her book seems even older. The pages soft beneath her fingers, pliant. Ismae knows that if she were to twist her fingers just so the delicate paper in her grasp would tear away like nothing.

In the shade of the tree she sits and reads. Occasionally she'll reach out for one of the little not-quite-purple fruits that she'd managed to pull from the branches above her head. They're sweet on her tongue, the juice that dribbles into the handkerchief held in her palm is even sweeter and red. Red like fire, red like the creams her mother wears on her lips and cheeks.

The five year old flips to the next page of the book.

Her mother had had reservations about Ismae reading the books Diru gave her. Said that a child her age shouldn't know about some of the things in the old Terran books with the worn covers and thin pages. Lord of the Flies had been a perfect example. Ismae had barely gotten through reading that book and after she had her mother had raged at Diru for weeks until the books began coming with little strips of ribbon tucked between the cover and the first page.

If the ribbon was black her mother would tuck the book away on the highest shelf in Ismea's room with the promise that Ismae could read them when she got a bit older.

 _Milk and Honey_ , the book she's currently reading, had come with a little gold ribbon that Diru had painted one end black.

"Because you're young and some of the content is sensitive." He'd explained.

Her mother hadn't forbade her from reading it.

So here she sits. Reading and eating and basking in the sunlight drifting down on her through the maroon leaves above her head.

And she sits there for hours, reading the same pages over and over again until she thinks she can recite them by heart.

The click of her mother's shoes on the pale stone pathway leading through the garden. Her footsteps are very distinct. Ismae tucks the golden ribbon between the page of her book and turns to smile at her mother.

"Good morning mother." She greets.

"Good morning, starlight." Her mother replies, dropping to sit on the roots beside her daughter.

The older woman smiles, reaching out to take the book from her daughter's lap.

She flips the book around, checking both covers, before flipping to one of the pages Ismea marked. Ismae watches as her mother reads the words typed onto the page. When she's done Sermari Alrix shuts the book and drops it onto her lap, leveling Ismae with a gentle look. Then she reaches out to tug on a pink braid. A gesture of affection, one of many, that Ismae has grown so very used to.

Ismae offers a gentle smile.

"Have you been out here all morning?" Her mother inquires after a long moment.

"No, not all morning. I was released from my lessons early."

"Were you now?"

"Yes mother."

"And what did you learn today, starlight."

"Shiga is teaching me intergalactic protocol and ethics."

"So soon? My, what a smart one you are."

And the little girl preens under her mother's easy praise. She's hesitant to let the praise end, so she digs through the memories of her lessons- of which there are many- and chooses the first interesting thing that springs to mind.

"Did you know that Andorians had very little use for lawyers before joining the Federation?"

"I did not." Her mother sounds amused.

"A thousand years ago anyone who had an occupation similar to that of a lawyer would have been killed."

"Oh?" Her mother sounds more amused than surprised.

"Yes. And did you know that because Andorians have four genders they marry in groups. And because their window of fertility is so small they tend to marry very early in life. Twenty-three is very old to be unmarried."

"Well," her mother laughs, "you are Atrollian and you may marry whenever you wish."

And then her mother is pulling Ismae into her lap, pressing chaste kisses to her cheeks and hair, fingers tickling at the skin over her ribs causing gentle laughter to spill from Ismae's mouth.

When her mother releases her Ismae darts off across the stone path, book forgotten, her mother follows. Carefully to keep her pace slow so that Ismae always remains a good few feet ahead of her. The little girl squeals happily as she darts between trees and around hedges, her mother always just a few feet behind. Close enough that she can reach out and brush her finger tips across Ismae's shoulders but not close enough to actually grab her.

Ismae's giggle takes a devious tilt as she darts beneath a hedge, knees and palms staining in the damn soil.

Her mother cannot follow her here. Cannot follow her into the cool dampness beneath the tangled mass of greenery. Ismae watches as her mother kneels on the ground before the hedge, pink hair almost painfully vibrant in the sunlight streaming down upon her.

"Come out, starlight." Her mother laughs, slipping a jeweled hand into the shadow beneath the hedge.

Ismae giggles.

"Please, starlight?"

When Ismae does not move her mother drops to her belly on the stone path, eyes bright with mirth. She smiles. And then she's reaching out to wrap her fingers around Ismae's ankles, eliciting a playful scream from the little girl, before carefully dragging her out from under the hedge. Within seconds Ismae is pulled from the shade of the hedges and into her mother's arms.

Chaste kisses are pressed to her cheeks and her temple as her mother rises to her feet.

Ismae's laughter dies for a moment when her mother walks past the tree where she'd been reading earlier, the book and the bowl of fruit lying forgotten among the roots.

"The servants will come for them soon, Starlight, but now it is time for you to wash and get ready." Her mother says, adjusting the girl on her hip.

"For what, mother?"

"We having guests over tonight," Her mother explains. "Do you remember Senator Kreend?"

"Bols Kreend?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Well, you'll meet him tonight."

And that's the end of it. Her mother says nothing more about the Senator from Eskono. Ismae isn't sure what she thinks about that. Thanks to her lessons Ismae knows the names of every Senator on Atrolla and which province the Senator presides over. Bols Kreend is an aged man and one of the thirteen who voted against Atrolla joining the Federation.

If her mother is inviting Bols Kreend for a reason. Ismae just... Isn't sure what that reason is.

But she doesn't really have a right to question her mother so Ismae bites her tongue and plays with one of the small braids woven in her mother's hair while her mother carries her through their home.

Shyra is waiting when Ismae's mother carries the girl into her room.

"The bath is ready, I'll make sure she's ready in time to greet Senator Kreend."

"Thank you, Shrya."

Ismae allows her mother to place her on the ground and watches as the woman leaves. Once the door to Ismae's bedroom swing shut Shyra places a hand on the back of the little girl's shoulder and guides her to the bathroom.

~X~

Dinner is an uncomfortable affair.

The Senator from Eskono is a short man with small shoulders and small yellow-hued eyes and dark green hair slicked back against his head. It accentuates the severity of his frown and the coldness of his eyes whenever he looks at Ismae.

She keeps her mouth shut, some primal thing in her head telling her to not draw the Senator's attention. So she doesn't make eye contact and refuses to add anything to the conversations her mother is having with the Senator from Eskono, which is obviously beginning to worry her mother. Ismae tries to meet the older woman's eye as little as possible.

Bols Kreend, however, is not deterred by Ismae's hesitance to antagonize him. He pokes and prods, making little jabs about Ismae's features. Nothing too horrible but Ismae begins to feel more and more like a piece of rotting meat as the dinner progresses.

Beside her Ismae can practically feel the rage burning inside her mother.

"Tell me, Senator Alrix, do you fear for your offspring?"

Ismae stills, her knife digging into the tender meat on her plate as she waits for her mother's reply.

"And why, Senator Kreend, would I fear for my daughter?" Something dangerous lingers in the woman's voice.

Something like a wild beast waiting for the opportune moment to lunge forward, sink its teeth into an unsuspecting throat, and clamp down until the body locked in its jaws stops struggling. It's terrifying in a way. But the rage is not directed at Ismae, is never directed at Ismae, and so the young girl carefully lowers her knife and places both hands in her lap.

 _Run_ , Ismae wants to tell the male sitting across from her, _run and never look back_.

But she keeps her mouth shut tight and watches as the Senator leans back in his chair, a smile sharp as a knife's edge curling his lips.

"May I be frank, Senator?" He asks.

"By all means, Senator Kreend, you've shown no hesitance before."

"There are some who are not pleased with you. No, forgive me, it is not you they dislike. It is your daughter they do not like." Senator Bols dabs at his mouth with a napkin. "They believe it is one thing to ally with the Federation but to create offspring with one is less than acceptable in their eyes. Some have even shown fondness for violence."

Ismae wants to leave.

She doesn't quite understand why the Senator is being so cruel. It's no secret to anyone that Ismae's father is human and it's also no secret that there are some who are not thrilled with the mixing of Atrollian and Terran blood but... Why would he bring such a thing up in front of her? Has she done something to him? Has she offended him in some way?

In her lap Ismae's hands tremble, the knuckles going white as she grips the napkin in her lap.

"And are you one of them, Bols?" her mother's voice is cutting.

"I merely wish to ensure the safety of our people and our world." Senator Kreend explains.

"Ah, yes, of course." Her mother's brittle smile turns to her. "Starlight, Shyra will be waiting to take you to bed."

Ismae knows the tone her mother is using.

So she nods once to her mother before slipping from her chair. She departs with the customary goodbye to Senator Kreend and a chaste kiss to her mother's burning cheek. Her mother waits until the door has shut behind Ismae before saying anything more. Shyra is not in the hall. Shrya is not waiting to take her to bed. It was a lie, an excuse to get Ismae out of the room without seeming too rude.

She's thankful.

Because it feels like someone is wrapping ropes around her chest and ribs, pulling tight to force the air from her lungs. It's not pleasant. Ismae doesn't like it. And the only place she thinks she stands any chance of escaping it is in the safety of her room. So she runs, her little feet creating sharp clacks as she tears down the long halls and up stairs and to the ornate door leading to her room.

~X~

"I want him dead!" Sermari roars, the glass in her hand cracking beneath the tightness of her grip. "I want his world ripped out from beneath his feet! I want him and those fucking radicals to _burn!_ "

Diru rubs a fingers against the corner of his eye and sighs. It does nothing to soothe the rage in Sermari's blood. If anything it makes it so much worse. Because Bols Kreend has always been a pain but tonight he went to far. Much, much to far.

If it were up to Sermari the Senator would be choking on his entrails. But she is a Senator and so is he and they are more civilized than all that. Though, Sermari thinks she could find a way to make an exception for the green haired Senator with the piss colored eyes. And oh how she hates the male for saying such things in front of Ismae.

Sweet, gentle Ismae who would never harbor a violent thought toward anyone.

"Sermari, you must think this through. Senator Kreend is not a man to be trifled with." Diru breathes.

The glass in her hand shatters, cutting into Sermari's hand, causing golden blood to swell and drip, drip, drip onto the finely woven carpet beneath her feet. She ignores the pain in favor of pitching the glass fragments at Diru's head. The bits of colored glass slip through the empty space that Diru's hologram occupies. For a brief, horrible moment Sermari wishes she could hurt the male.

Instead she strides across the room and leans over to press her face closer to Diru's projection.

"I am not afraid of that coward." Sermari snarls. "Who does he think _I_ am? I would tear the galaxy apart for the child sleeping upstairs and he thinks that coming to my home with the intention of threatening _my_ daughter will cow me? Me? Me who has no qualms breaking every bone in his pathetic little body."

"Your anger will get you nowhere."

"Do you not care? He spoke of radicals in front of my daughter! Told my daughter that she is not safe in her own home! _He_ came to our home under false pretenses and had the audacity to threaten us. How are you not upset by this?"

"I am upset, Sermari. I rage just as you do! But anger will not help us here." Diru snaps.

"No. No. My rage will burn him." Sermari takes a calming breath and straightens. "I will remain calm, for Ismae, but I will not stand by. Not now. I want him gone. I want him out of the Senate, I want him out of power, I want him to rot in a prison cell."

"Do do any of these things will not be easy, Sermari."

"That's where you're wrong. Bols Kreend is a Senator and a hateful one at that but he is a fool. Tomorrow I will destroy Bols Kreend and I will do it will all of the grace and the poise that a Senator of my station possesses. If you do not like it fine. But keep your fucking mouth shut."

And then Sermari is ripping the small device tucked behind her ear away and tossing it onto the ground.

Diru's image fades, the remnants of his disapproval lingering in Sermari's mind, and when there's nothing but the distant buzz of her communication device Sermari pivots on her heel and storms out of the room.

It takes her all of three minutes to make it to her daughter.

Ismae is curled up in her bed, her face illuminated by the little twinkling lights floating above her head. She looks peaceful, untouched by the cruelty she has had to endure today. And watching the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way the corner of her mouth twitches in her sleep, settles the raging thing in Sermari's chest. Without thought Sermari creeps across the room, kicking off her shoes and removing her jewelry so that when she lowers herself onto her daughter's bed she doesn't have to worry about the possibility of falling asleep in them.

Once she's situated on the bed Sermari gather's the little girl into her arms so that she can place chaste kisses to Ismae's cheeks without waking her.

She hates Bols, it's a hate that will never every go away, but Sermari is smart enough to recognize the danger he poses.

And the Senator from Eskono does pose quite a bit of danger.

It would be safer, better even, if Sermari were to try and contact Henry Wolfe again. She'd tried once, years ago where Ismae was barely a standard month old, but the thought of asking so much of him so soon had her ending the call before he'd even been able to answer. She'd carefully ignored all of his attempts to communicate with her in the months after. Only answering his calls almost half a year later with the excuse that she'd been busy and that's why she hadn't answered his calls.

A lie.

But he hadn't known that.

Sermari tightens her hold on the little one in her arms and buries her face in Ismae's hair.

She'll have to tell him eventually. Ismae already knows about her father, she's read about him, and she's never showed much interest in meeting the human but wouldn't it be fair to both of them if Sermari gave them a chance to do so?

Wouldn't it be safer if Ismae had somewhere safe to go should something happen to Sermari?

It's not a thought the Senator likes to entertain but the fact is that she's a well known Senator, a supporter of interstellar relations, and a politician who pushed to joining of Atrolla to the list of planets allied with the Federation. She's also the mother of the first Half-blooded Atrollian born in over three thousand years. Honestly, there's a target painted on both Sermari's back and Ismae's.

And the last thing the pink haired Senator wants is to lose her daughter to prejudice and hate.

So there's really no choice, is there?

Tomorrow she'll contact the Ambassador and tell him about Ismae, she'll take the brunt of his anger and shield Ismae from any pain the man might cause her. And if Henry Wolfe wants to visit Atrolla and meet Ismae then fine, Sermari has no qualms with welcoming the man into her home. But first she'll have to deal with Senator Kreend. The sooner the better.

~X~

Three days after his visit the news of Senator Kreend's removal from the Senate reaches the Alrix household. There's not much information being given to the public but her mother seems rather pleased with herself... If a bit distracted. Ismae wonders about that, any child would, but Ismae knows better than to ask what her mother did to Senator Kreend. Because who else could it have been really?

But it's not as though Ismae really wants to know.

So instead of asking Ismae eats her breakfast and reads from the Ethics book Shiga told her to read. It's interesting enough Ismae supposes. Most of the information pertains to Tellar Prime and the Federation members that live there.

She's halfway through the book when her mother says, "I've contacted your father."

"My father?"

"Yes, Ambassador Wolfe will be returning to Atrolla at the end of the week."

A week.

After a long moment her mother says, "He's currently on a planet known to the Federation as Vaotov. Once he's done with his business there he is coming to Halitus."

Something strange bubbles up in her stomach, it's almost like excitement but it hurts more. It feels like her innards are twisting. Ismae thinks that it might be nervousness. Or fear. Neither of which she has much experience with.

"I see... Does he..."

"He knows."

"Oh."

 _He knows,_ her mother's words seem to echo, _he knows_.

Her mother must see something in Ismae's face because she reaches out and runs the pad of her thumb over the little girl's golden cheek.

"He is so, so excited to meet you Ismae." Her mother promises and it eases the pain a bit. "He had so many questions Ismae, kept asking about you."

"Is he... Angry?"

"Yes, but not at you."

Ismae nods, carefully pulling away from her mother.

It's never been a secret that Henry Wofle, the Terran ambassador who had paved the way to Atrolla joining the Federation, is Ismae's father. Her mother had told her about the man the first time Ismae had asked and Diru had nothing but good things to say about him as well. Ismar's seen video footage of him and she's read about him but... She'd never expected to meet him.

Never thought he'd want to meet her.

Ismae picks at a thread sticking out of the table cloth but says nothing and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence as they finish their breakfast. Occasional glances at her book allows Ismae to make it through the thirty-sixth chapter but none of the information really processes. She's too excited about meeting her father to really pay much attention.

And the moment breakfast ends Ismae is out of the dinning room and making her way to the lirbary where Shiga is likely waiting.

~X~

Henry has never been to Hallitus before. He's read about all of the Atrollian cities, certainly, but that was more out of duty than a want to. But even then Henry thinks that the images on his PADD do Hallitus very little justice.

Because Hallitus is a silver city rising up to meet a water color sky, pinks and oranges and a vibrantly yellow sun that warms the air around him. But even then Henry isn't as fascinated by the aesthetic of the city as he thinks he should be.

The driver of the transport unit keeps shooting him glances but Henry's too caught up in his own musing to care.

Because they're nearing Sermari Alrix's home and once he's there Henry's going to meet a little girl that Sermari claims is his and _oh god_. Oh god because Henry's not stupid enough to doubt the Senator's words, oh god because five years after the two of them participated in a sexual relationship Henry learns he has a daughter. A little girl names Ismae.

Oh God because he might not be good enough.

He's never really thought about getting married or having kids. He doesn't abhor the idea but it's just never been something he's thought about. But now he has a daughter and her mother is reaching out to give Henry the chance to be part of her life and there's no way in Hell Henry's letting that opportunity slip through his fingers.

But the fact that it's been five years...

Does Ismae know about him? If so does she know that he was unaware of her existence for the past five years? Does she hate him?

Sweat is begining to slick the flesh of his palms and this is the most nervous he's been in years.

"You alright back there?" The driver asks.

"I'm fine, thanks."

It's a lie.

Henry is most certainly not alright.

But it's too late to turn back, not that Henry has any intention of doing so, because he can just make out the Alrix Manor in the distance. A great white building with exotic plants growing up one side. They'll be there in a few minutes at the rate the driver is weaving through traffic. Without much thought Henry looks down at his suit.

How does one dress when meeting their daughter for the first time?

It's not like he has anyone he can ask. The only person he's close enough to talk to about this isn't married and doesn't like children.

 _Fuck_.

The thought comes when the driver pulls to a stop at the end of a long drive where it curves in front of a manor door. The Alrix Manor. Sermari is standing on the front steps, the cream colored dress she wears shifts slightly as she moves to reveal a golden slip and Henry's throat goes dry.

She's just as beautiful as he remembers her being.

"Hello, Ambassador." Sermari greets, the device around her neck translating the Atrolllian into Standard.

"Hello, Sermari."

The chill in her eyes fades.

"Would you like to get settled first?"

"No."

"Very well then, come with me."

And then Sermari is turning and making her way into the Manor, motioning for Henry to place his bags on the ground for the servants to deal with before turning down a long hall that leads to a pair of doors.

Henry swallows the nausea that bubbles in his chest.

He can do this.

A hand on his shoulder forces his attention away from the door and to Sermari.

"There is no shame in waiting." She promises, but it's a lie.

"Does she know?"

"That you're coming or that you're her father?"

"Both."

"Yes."

Henry nods once before stepping toward the door.

They slip open without so much as a hiss to reveal a small child sitting before a Terran piano where she's practicing whatever sheet music she's chosen to practice. Henry watches her for a long moment. She's got her mother's coloring, Henry isn't sure why he's surprised, but instead of all pink hair the girl's roots are a dark brown and even though he can't see his face Henry thinks she's going to be the most amazing thing he's ever seen in his life.

Sermari slips past him, making her way over to the little girl where she crouches down next to the bench.

"That is very good, Starlight, but you have a guest." Sermari tells the little girl in the chair, gently pulling the sheet of paper off of the piano.

Slowly, the girl turns.

And Henry's world falls away beneath his feet.

Because this girl had her mother's coloring and her mother's mouth and her mother's eyes but Henry sees himself in the sharpness of her cheeks and the gentle curve of her her jaw. In a way, Ismae Alrix looks a bit like Sophia Wolfe and Henry thinks his mother will love this little girl when she learns about her.

"Hello." The little girl greets and Henry realizes she's not wearing a translator.

Which means Sermari made sure to teach Ismae Standard.

"Hello." He greets as he moves forward to offer his hand.

It's awkward though, who offers their hand for a kid to shake anyway? But she takes it and gives it a firm little shake before releasing him.

"I like you're pin."

"Oh... Thank you... Do you like bees?"

"I find honey bees fascinating. Did you know honey bees use the most complex symbolic language of any animal on earth, outside the primate family?" His daughter asks.

And gentle warms bubbles up to drive away the nausea because this is easy conversation, easy and simple. A good way to break whatever ice there is between the two of them.

Henry smiles.

"I didn't know that." He replies, and if there are tears in his eyes no one is commenting on them.

"Would you like to know more?" His daughter asks, eyes hopeful.

"Yeah," Henry breathes, chest tight. "Yeah I would."

The smile he receives in return is bright and beautiful and Henry wants to reach out, gather the little girl into his arms, and never let her go. He settles for allowing her to take his hand and guide him from the room, chattering excitedly about Terran bees and their similarities to the Ovosa insects that live in forests and live in colonies- similar but not entirely like a bee. Henry isn't all that interested in them but he listens to Ismae and asks the appropriate question when he should.

Hours pass like this.

Ismae asks questions and tells Henry about things that he'd never known before. He's beginning to wonder if the little girl talking about twentieth century literature is a certifiable genius or if it's a trait associated with her mother's people. Henry wouldn't be surprised either way, honestly, he thinks it's wonderful that she's as brilliant as she is.

Most human children her age don't read the books she reads, they don't hold conversations with adults the way she does, they don't take lessons on intergalactic policies and ethics.

Ismae Alrix is a fascination in and of herself.

And later that night Henry carries a sleeping Ismae to her room and lowers her onto the bed before pulling the heavy blankets up to her chin. She doesn't stir and without much thought Henry reaches up to remove the lapel pin that his daughter had complimented earlier that day. He puts it next to the book resting on the bedside table.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the years Henry Wolfe becomes just as much of a fixed point in Ismae's life as her mother has always been. He spends more time on Atrolla, switching between the Earth Embassy and the Alrix Manor. When he does travel off planet for work, which is fairly often, he always makes an effort to Comm Ismae and when he returns there is always a little trinket for Ismae to place in her room.

And by the time Ismae is eleven standard years old her room is a mess of brightly colored trinkets and Earth memorabilia. Most of the Earth memorabilia came from her father's mother. Her Grandmother Sophia, a woman she has never actually met, a woman who sends her Comms and holovideos and pictures of the property her father grew up on. A woman that laughs a bit too loudly and smiles so hard her eyes squint.

Ismae is scheduled to meet her grandmother at the beginning of Earth's summer months.

Her mother won't be going, too busy with matters of the Senate and personal responsibilities to be able to attend, but she smiles as she helps Ismae gather a wardrobe fit for Terran modesty. Ismae isn't overly fond of the thick fabric, _denim_ her father had called it, that makes up her pants nor is she fond of the necklines that seem so determined to strangle her. These clothes are nothing like the loose, billowy fabrics she is use to wearing... But she supposes they will suit her well enough. All things considered.

Fortunately she's not required to wear them until they reach Thomasville where her grandmother lives. And even then her mother has put several Atrollian garments aside for Ismae to take with her.

Gowns much like the one she's wearing now.

They're going to the Opera, a special treat for her father who has never actually been to one despite the fact that he is an ambassador and relatively well off in the eyes of his own people. Ismae has been to a few Operas herself, being a child in Hallitus has it's perks after all, but she's never been as excited about going as she is right now.

"Stop fidgeting." Her mother scolds, reaching out to place her hand over Ismae's.

"Sorry."

"What are we seeing again?"

"Diceros Pristaela."

Her father hums but Ismae knows he has no idea what she's actually talking about.

"It's about the Last King of Atrolla during the war between Atrolla and Reskore. During his reign he created the Senate to help distribute power among the provinces... And eventually he married a Reskoren female to bring peace to our worlds."

"What happened to him?"

Ismae shrugs, "The bride given to him by the Great Rulers of Reskore was a radical... She tore out his throat."

"Jesus."

Beside her, Ismae's mother levels her father with a look that would cow even the most ferocious of beasts. And her father has the decency to blush brightly and stammer out an apology. They act as though Ismae hasn't heard it before. She's been attending The Academy for years now and she's been subject to far worse than a few profanities.

Instead of voicing this, however, Ismae turns her attention to the bright lights and buildings sweeping past them beyond the blue-tinted glass of the transporter's windows.

Hallitus is a beautiful city.

One full of light and gentle music. The people tend to be calmer than those found in the Capital, there is not so much excitement. Hallitus is known for its art and music, not it's business districts or its trade centers or its tourist destinations.

Ismae's home is far quieter in comparison but no less beautiful.

And when the transport unit pulls up in front of the Opera House Ismae waits for her mother and father to exit before stepping out and taking her father's larger hand in her own. Together they gaze up at the golden building, together they watch as men and women of all races and species make their way through the large stained glass doors that lead to the Lobby of the Opera House.

"Come," Her mother commands, already making her way to the door, "we don't want to be late."

The eleven year old offers her father a gentle smile before pulling him along after her mother.

Once they've formed something of a group Ismae speaks with the purple haired Atrollian waiting to take tickets in the Lobby, smiles when the girl calls for the ushers, and practically throws herself into the seat between her mother and father in the box that Sermari has paid for every single time the two of them come to the opera. It's a nice arrangement, grandly furnished and private.

So when the house lights dim and the heavy black curtain pulls apart to reveal an Atrollian man with vibrant blue hair and a crown of starlight upon his brow Ismae leans forward to rest her arms and chin upon the rail.

This is her favorite Opera.

A bit morbid, fairly sad, but all together quite beautiful.

It's performed in Ismae's mother tongue, a language that Atrolla has yet to let off-worlders learn. Ancient and sacred and almost whimsical sounding. When Diceros Pristaela begins to sing, hand clasping the might war hammer at his hip, Ismae is almost sad for her father. He will not be able to understand what is being said, what is being sung. He will not be able to understand the jokes and the rage.

But a quick glance at the Terran man shows Ismae that he doesn't seem very put out. Instead he looks... Fascinated. It's an expression that forces Ismae to remember the fact that her father has never been to an Opera before.

 _Well_ , she thinks as one of Diceros Pristaela's generals enters down stage, _he will certainly enjoy this_.

The first act passes rather quickly as it's shorter than the second and third acts, more of an introduction than anything else. A way to establish characters and give the audience a bit of a history lesson before the plot thickens.

Personally, Ismae's favorite character in the Opera is Ayja Oreamnos.

She'd been a general in Diceros Pristaela's army. Credited with over fifty won battles during the time of her career, she'd been one of the four generals to caution the King against taking a Reskoren bride, and after her King's demise she'd been the one to slaughter Three of the five Reskoren Rulers. Frankly, Ismae thinks she might have been in love with Diceros Pristaela at one point but it's impossible to say if that's true or not as nothing was ever mentioned in any of the historical records or artifacts that had belonged to her.

Though, she had given birth during the war.

A little pink haired boy that she'd named Lelion.

But all the same, Ayja Oreamnos is Ismae's favorite character in the Opera. And when she storms onto the stage, garbed in the traditional garb of an Atrollian General of Old, warpaint staining the golden hue of her skin a vivid black, Ismae finds herself throwing her heart beating rapidly against her breast bone.

The General and the King speak, their voices rising and falling with their rage.

Ayja Oreamnos has just lost three hundred men in a suicide mission given to her by the King. She is angry. She has every right to be. But her respect for the King keeps her from lashing out with her fists and instead forces her to shake and rage as silently as she is able until it is time for the actor to storm offstage once more.

"Ayja!" The King calls, the half moons under his eyes incredibly dark in the blue lighting that illuminates the stage, "My heart walks with you."

The pink haired general nods briskly, eyes sad, before disappearing offstage.

This is one of the last times she will ever see Diceros Pristaela again.

When intermission is called her mother ushers them out of the box so that she might socialize with whoever has traveled to Hallitus to see the Opera. Off worlders and other Senators, Sermari doesn't really care, she socializes with all of them while Henry and Ismae linger at her sides. Sometimes Ismae's father will interject himself into conversations, adding little tidbits of information or asking if this person knows this person or that.

Ismae isn't really interested.

Not until she moves to return to the box and runs right into a tall man with heavy robes and pointed ears.

He is, in an subtle kind of way, eye catching.

"My apologies sir," Ismae bows her head slightly, hand moving to rest over her heart, "I did not see you there."

"Apologies are unnecessary." The man replies, dark eyes cold.

 _Vulcan_ , her mind supplies.

His people live on a desert planet, they're also telepathic, able to pick up the thoughts of others through touch and sometimes the emotions of others if the feelings being projected are strong enough.

"Unnecessary perhaps but I feel I owe them all the same." Ismae does not offer her hand despite the fact she wants to. "Ismae Wolfe."

"Ambassador Wolfe's daughter?"

"And Senator Alrix's."

"I see. I've met both of your parents," a long pause and then, "Live long and prosper."

"Peace and long live, Ambassador."

The Vulcan male nods once before turning on his heel. Ismae watches as he makes his way down the long hall to where his box must be waiting.

With a slight huff Ismae returns to her own box where she finds her mother and father sitting in their seats. Her father has the playbill open in his lap. Ismae thinks that the playbills are nothing more than a kindness to Atrolla's visitors than anything else.

Ismae lowers herself into her seat, leaning forward to take up her earlier position against the rail, and watches as the velveteen curtains slide open.

~X~

"In recent news a Deltan Ambassador was found dead late yesterday morning. No statement has been released on the Ambassador's death but the police are recommending that all foreign dignitaries remain caut-"

The holo-vid cuts out, forcing Ismae to look over her shoulder at where her father is standing behind her. He looks irritated. Like he can't understand why Ismae would be watching Terran news holos when she should be doing schoolwork or playing with friends. Truth of the matter is that Ismae doesn't have anything better to do and catching up on Terran news is, perhaps, the most interesting thing that's happened in the last few days has been the death of the Deltan Ambassador.

Ismae blinks slowly, turns back to the now dark screen where her holo-vid had been playing moments before, and sighs.

"This is the third murder of an off-worlder on Earth in a year." Ismae says after a moment.

"I know." Her father replies.

"Hmm."

"You know, there are better things to watch than the news." Her father moves to sit beside Ismae on the couch.

"Like what?"

Her father smiles.

"Well," he says. "I've always been rather fond of cartoons."

"Cartoons?"

"Yeah... The really old ones are my favorites. Looney Tunes, The Flintstones, Tom and Jerry. Personally I think Acme was the best cartoon developer but that's just me I guess."

"We don't have cartoons on Atrolla."

"I know, which is why I'm going to show you what you've been missing out on." Her father is all smiles and bright eyes.

And despite the fact Ismae wants to continue watching the news report about the Deltan Ambassador her father's eyes are so hopeful, so bright, that Ismae finds herself pulling her knees to her chin and nodding hesitantly.

"We'll start you off on Tom and Jerry."

It's said absently. More to himself than to Ismae. And then her father is turning his attention to the PADD in his hands, after a moment he seems to find whatever it is he'd been looking for because he passes the PADD to Ismae just as the image of a cat and a mouse appears across the screen.

There's no dialogue but Ismae finds herself entranced by the little brown mouse and the grey cat that keeps attempting to catch him. A giggle bursts from Ismae's mouth as the cat banks right, diving in an attempt to grab the mouse, and promptly slams into a wall.

Ridiculous, impractical, unrealistic.

But funny.

Ismae twists to lean back against the arm of the couch, cradles the PADD in her lap, and misses the relief that flashes in her father's eyes.

~X~

Two Atrollan months later Ismae is standing on the landing pad of a shuttle, her mother is fretting over her and her father is standing behind her, and Ismae is fiddling with the straps of her bag.

It's uncommonly chilly for the time of year. The frigid bite of wind having forced Ismae into a jacket early that morning before she and the rest of her small family had left the Alrix estate and she can still feel the chill despite the layers she's forced herself into. Her mother looks uncomfortable as well but Ismae thinks that to the untrained eye she'd look impassive.

As impassive as a mother who won't be seeing her daughter for months can be anyway.

"You have everything, yes?"

"Mhm."

"And you've contacted your grandmother?"

"She'll be waiting to pick me up at the shuttle station."

It'll take roughly one week to reach Earth from Atrolla if they use warp drive. Which they should as most of the passengers on the ship don't want to spent more than a week in space when they really just want to go home and do whatever it is they plan to do once they've reached Earth.

And Sophia Wolfe will be waiting at the shuttle station to take Ismae back to the home where she raised her children and even a few grandchildren.

"Comm me when you get the chance." Her mother demands as the men and women around them begin boarding the shuttle.

"Every day." Ismae promises.

Then she's reaching out to wrap her arms around her mother. Once she's done embracing her mother Ismae turns her attention to her father, winding her arms around his neck and allowing him to lift her off the floor for a moment before he puts her back on her feet.

"Be good to your grandmother, yeah? She's not as spry as she used to be."

"I will."

"Good. I love you."

Ismae smiles, stepping back toward the shuttle. "I love you two... Both of you... I'll see you in a few months."

And with that she pivots on her heel and races for the shuttle where an Atrollian male with leaf colored hair leads Ismae to her seat. Once she's buckled in alongside the other passengers Ismae settles back to wait out the short trip from the shuttle platform to the courier ship. It'll be a quick trip, less than ten minutes, but Ismae has never been off planet before and she's not quite sure if this is going to be a good experience.

Though, she suspects it won't be to awful. Her father has been off-planet hundreds of times and he's never talked about any adverse side affects. So what if the shuttle is a little shaky? So what if Ismae feels trapped between the padded seat behind her and the firm press of the seat belt across her shoulders?

 _You're fine_ , she tells herself as the shuttle pulls away from the station.

 _Fine, fine, fine._

Ismae sucks in a deep breath as the shuttle rockets away from the ground. Ascending higher and higher until the heavy pull of Atrolla's gravity on the shuttle loosens enough for the driver to slow their progression to the courier ship waiting in Atrolla's orbit.

Without much thought Ismae looks out the little window next to her seat.

Space is beautiful, dark and endless and filled with little pin pricks of light, but Ismae's eye is drawn to the planet she has just left.

She can make out the mauve colored sands that make up the Fahi deserts where Senator Orena Ithys lives, she can also make out the blue-grey mountains of Halitus with the Roinall cutting through it like a flaming ribbon. Ismae has played in the Rionall before, she's swam in those waters, so it's beauty has never been lost on her but seeing it like this? Amongst the bright colors of her planet? It's stunning.

Even Shialbi with it's mauve colored beaches and it's azure water cannot compare.

For a moment Ismae wonders if her father had been as awestruck by the splendor of Atrolla as Ismae is at this moment. She wonders if he'd been even more impressed by the people? Because surely he couldn't have been blind to it? None of the off-worlders who come to Atrolla can be blind to it.

Her thoughts are interrupted as an Atrollian woman places a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"We'll be boarding the courier in a moment Miss Alrix."

"Thank you," Ismae glances at the badge gleaming on the attendant's vest, "Qydia."

"You're very welcome Miss Alrix."

And then the girl is gone, moving onto the next passenger. Ismae watches her for a moment before turning her attention back to the window. Atrolla is gone, blocked by the too-white walls of the courier ship's landing pad. The girl sighs, fingers curling tightly around the strap of her bag. When it's time to exit the shuttle Ismae does so with hesitant steps, her heart hammering a rapid beat into her breast bone.

This is the first time she's ever been away from her family. The first time she's ever gone off-world. And while she's excited to meet her grandmother and explore the little town her father grew up in Ismae doesn't know if she's ready to do it alone.

 _But how do you know if you don't try?_

Ismae bites her lip as she passes the Atrollian attendants that are ushering passengers to where they need to be. She's been assigned quarters near Observation Deck five which is on the third level of the ship. Her luggage is likely already waiting for her and Ismae doesn't necessarily want to spend more time then she has to in the company of so many strangers.

So she adjusts her grip on her bag and makes her way down the long hall leading to the lifts where there are four other people waiting. Ismae squeezes herself into a corner, careful not to bump against anyone, and smiles briefly at a woman with a Caitian female when they make eye contact with one another. But the moment the lift stops Ismae is off of the lift and making her way down the hall to the room that has been assigned for her.

~X~

"Ismae! Ismae, honey, over here!"

The pink haired girl stands in the middle of the shuttle station, bags against her body, straining to see over or around the men and women that have just gotten off of the courier's shuttle.

Earth is a strange place. The planet is beautiful and vibrant, full of blues and greens, but the atmosphere is a bit thinner than Atrolla's and the people are less vibrantly colored. They stare too. Like they've never seen an Atrollian child before. Perhaps they haven't. But Ismae thinks that it's still rude to stare despite their curiosity.

Suddenly there is a woman standing in front of her. Dark eyes and dark hair and the familiar slope of a jaw greets Ismae before her mind catches up with her, allowing the girl to realize who the woman is.

"Hi honey, you probably do-"

"You are Sophia Wolfe."

"Nonna."

"... Nonna."

Her grandmother smiles so brightly, so happily, that it makes something in Ismae's chest ease a great deal.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure you're starving and I've got so much planned." Her grandmother laughs as she reaches for the heavier of the two bags that linger at Ismae's sides.

"Oh, I can get that." Ismae says, already reaching for the bag.

Her grandmother merely pushes Ismae's hand away before placing her own between the girl's shoulders so that she can guide the younger girl through the station without loosing her.

"I've made up one of the bedrooms for you, I think you'll enjoy it." Her grandmother says after they've exited the shuttle and have settled into the woman's transport unit.

 _Car_ , her mind supplies, _the Terran's call then cars_.

"Thank you, I'm very excited to be here."

"We're excited to have you."

"We're?"

"Oh. Didn't your daddy tell you? You'll be meeting your aunt Maria and her children. They aren't old enough to keep you much company but the neighbors have a boy who is a few years older than you."

"I'm excited to meet them."

And she is.

Ismae doesn't have a big family back on Atrolla. Her mother's parents are dead, her father's family is off-world, and Diru is like a grandfather but he is aging and a Senator to boot. And as Atrollians value family as highly as they do... Well, it had been a bit unusual for Ismae to be an only child to a single mother for as long as she had been. Even now, after Henry Wolfe has settled into Ismae and Sermari's life there are many Atrollians that do not view him... Kindly.

Whatever their reasons are Ismae doesn't necessarily care.

Because she has a family. Parents that love her and a grandmother that is so damn happy to have her here that Ismae is almost taken aback, and cousins that she's never met with parents that actually want to meet her.

"Did your daddy ever talk about Georgia?" Her grandmother asks after a moment.

Sophia is guiding the transport unit off of the main high way and down a road that looks like it might have seen better days but isn't falling apart by any means. An ebony ribbon weaving between trees and fields and even over a little creek that reflects the green of the trees around it but allows Ismae to see the mud below.

It's pretty.

Not like Atrolla... But Ismae loves it.

There's a sort of muted beauty to this place. Exotic but not overwhelming.

"Once or twice."

"I'm not surprised. Your daddy never truly felt at home here." Her grandmother glances at her, dark eyes sad, "I suppose that was my fault."

Ismae frowns.

She's never heard a bad word about her grandmother come out of her father's mouth. Not once. He didn't talk about his childhood often but when he did nothing awful ever got brought up. Sure, Ismae knew her grandfather wasn't a good man but the one time Ismae's father had ever brought up Elijah Wolfe had been enough to let the girl know that he was never to be brought up.

Ever.

But Sophia?

Sophia who is weathered around the eyes and mouth? Sophia who's been nothing but loving to Ismae despite never having met her? Sophia who is so excited to meet is so determined to make Ismae comfortable during her stay?

Henry Wolfe loves his mother.

Ismae understands. Because maybe she doesn't love the woman yet, maybe it's too soon for that, but Ismae thinks she could. Ismae knows she will.

Without thought Ismae says, "My father always spoke fondly of you."

A long moment passes and the only sound is the thrum of the cooling unit and the gentle hum of the engine. It's a peaceful kind fo silence. Easy. Ismae takes this moment to look out the window before turning back to look at the woman who has reached across the car to take her hand in her own.

"Your daddy is a good man."

After that neither of them say anything. They just sit in a gentle kind of quiet as Sophia Wolfe guides the transport unit down a winding dirt road that leads to a large white house with a tree in the yard that has oddly shaped green-yellow fruits hanging from it.

 _Pears_.

Ismae cocks her head to the side, taking in the swaying leaves and the ladder propped against the side.

But when the transport unit stops Ismae doesn't ask about the tree. Instead she gets out and grabs one of her bags while her grandmother takes the other. Then she follows the dark haired woman into the house, up a set of stairs, down a long hall, and to a chipped white door.

Sophia smiles before she pushes it open with her hip.

A bed pressed against the wall, a desk in the far corner, a dresser next to the bed, and a large window facing the rolling country beyond the house.

"Thank you." Ismae says.

"You're welcome... I'll leave you to settle and get cleaned up." Sophia smiles.

And she places a chaste kiss to Ismae's forehead before striding back down the hall, down the stairs, and out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5

"Ismae, honey?"

The girl looks up from the apple she'd been peeling, peeler ready to bite into green flesh, eyes wide with question. Her grandmother is leaning on the counter. Dark hair piled atop her head, flour marks on the sleeve of the silky blue shirt she'd chosen that morning, apron tied tight around a softening waist. They've been cooking for what seems like hours now and Ismae is thoroughly enjoying herself.

"Yes, nonna?"

"I want you to run some things up the road to Vivienne."

"Of course. What?"

"Just a pie. Her husband died last year and I think the poor woman is lonely."

"Would it be appropriate? For me to go alone, I mean?"

"She's harmless, might talk your ear off but other than that she won't do a thing."

She's spent enough time on Earth to realize that Vivienne, whoever _she_ is, will not actually talk any of Ismae's body parts off and for that she is so incredibly thankful. So it's with a nod that Ismae puts down the peeler she'd been using and makes her way over to the sink where she washes her hands in warm water. Once she's done washing up Ismae makes her way over to where her grandmother is lowering a pie into a wooden box.

Which seems a bit redundant to Ismae seeing as she's spent most of her life on a planet where wooded food boxes are so uncommon... But her father had told Ismae once that Sophia was a bit old fashioned.

That the woman liked to do things a certain way.

So Ismae doesn't say anything about it. Just slips her feet into a pair of dark blue shoes and takes the box from her grandmother before slipping out the side door that leads to the stairs where the bicycle her grandmother had taught her to ride is leaning up against rail. Ismae's careful about placing the little wooden box inside the basket attached to the front.

"Now remember to look both ways before getting on the road! It's not normally busy but I'd rather you be safe than sorry."

"Yes, Nonna."

"Also, tell Vivienne that she's invited to dinner Sunday. Lord knows that poor woman doesn't get out enough."

"I will."

"Good girl." Her grandmother wipes her hands on the front of her apron. "Now off with you!"

Ismae guides the bike onto the drive before tossing a leg over. After she's settled and said goodbye to her grandmother for the time being Ismae places a foot on a pedal and pushes off.

It's easy. Riding a bike. More so now than it had been at the beginning of her stay when she'd been uncertain of what to do with herself while staying in the Georgian country with her grandmother. Sure, there's plenty to do. The house is near enough a creek that her grandmother has often encouraged Ismae to go swimming and if her grandmother drives the thirty minutes into town Ismae could easily go see a holovid or participate in other activities. Which she's done once or twice.

But she likes riding a bike. Likes that it's relatively easy and allows her the freedom to explore while her grandmother is busy.

Just last week she'd come across an old Cemetery about four miles from the house. The place had obviously run down over time and with no one to remember or care for it the vegetation had soon taken, covering cracked head stones in the ground and reaching up to tangle around weathered grave markers. Ismae hasn't been back to that little grave yard in some time but she's not sure it's a good idea to go back either.

While it had a certain macabre beauty to it Ismae got the sense that it had been forgotten for a reason. _Abandoned_ for a reason. Even if that's not true Ismae doesn't want to fight with that twisting feeling in her gut that says going back is a bad idea.

Ismae crosses over a bridge and glances at the water below before she's forced to turn her attention to the road again.

Georgia is nice, she likes it here. Of course, it's much quieter than Hallitus or the Capital or Shialbi but it's a welcome quiet. Ismae wonders if her mother would like it here. Probably not. Sermari Alrix is a womant hat lives on political debates and the hustle and bustle of a thriving city. Her father's home is nothing like the places Sermari typically enj- the blare of a horn shakes Ismae from her thoughts.

And then a rusted transport unit shoots past her, close enough that Ismae can feel the rough metal against her legs.

Without much thought she jerks to the left, unable to stop as the bike hits the rough gravel lining the road, unable to even gasp when her bike's tires go out on her. All she can do is watch with a sort of distant horror as her body smashes into the dirt and gravel as the rear lights on the transport unit flash for a brief moment while the driver decides whether or not to stop.

They don't.

And soon the rusted transport unit is nothing but a smudge of dust further down the road, leaving Ismae and the now ruined pie in a heap in the ditch.

Ismae takes a moment to mourn the pie before turning to assess herself. She's not hurt. Not really anyway. A few cuts and a few patches of skin that are already darkening into deep bruises. There's blood smearing across her leg from the cut on her thigh, golden blood shining bronze in the light offered by the sun. With trembling fingers Ismae moves to wipe away the blood that has made a trail down her calf.

She's only half aware of a transport unit slowing down on the road in front of her.

"You ok?"

This is not the same person who just tried to run her off the road. Instead of rust and a broken tail light there is a pale blue transport unit that Ismae thinks is called a truck and a boy a few years older than her leaning out the window.

Pain shoots up her leg as Ismae pushes herself to her feet.

The boy in the truck watches as Ismae gathers up her bike and the discarded pie box before his gaze drops down to the blood that is now staining the edge of the white socks she'd been wearing to protect her feet from the rough texture of the terran shoes her grandmother had bought her. Something in his gaze hardens.

"Thank you but I'm fine." Ismae says, smiling thinly.

"You're bleeding."

"That's typically what happens when one falls off a bike."

A moment passes in which the boy stares at her, searching for something Ismae isn't going to give him, then he glances back down the road.

"You know, I passed Jordan Blount and his brother a few minutes ago. They aren't too fond of off-worlders."

Ismae blinks slowly before glancing down the road. "I might have... Run into them."

"Uh huh... Come on, get in, I'll drive you back to your house."

"I don't know you."

"I don't know you either, kid. Looks like we got somethin' in common." The boy opens the truck door, steps out, and moves to put Ismae's bike in the back. "But you're safer with me than not."

There might be truth to that statement. Ismae isn't sure. What she is sure of is that her leg hurts and she needs to clean up the wound before it gets infected. Besides, it's not like this boy is trying to hurt her. He's helping. Offering to make sure she gets home safe. Without much thought Ismae moves to the passenger side of the truck.

Once she's settled the boy gets back behind the steering wheel.

Ismae tries not to bleed all over the interior.

"Leonard."

"What?"

"My name, it's Leonard McCoy."

"Oh, a pleasure. I'm Ismae."

"Ismae..."

"Ismae Wolfe or Ismae Alrix, depending on where we are and who you ask."

The boy, Leonard McCoy, offers a thin smile before pulling off the side of the road.

After that the drive back to the house is pretty quiet. Leonard tells her that there's a medkit in the back seat that she can use, when Ismae asks if it's typical for Terran's to keep medkits in their transport units Leonard glances at her before explaining that his father is a medical doctor. So Ismae keeps her mouth shut and uses the disinfectant pads to dab at the cut on her thigh.

The shorts she'd been wearing are covered in dirt and blood and ripped up one seam. Ruined. Once the blood is wiped away though Ismae finds herself more concerned with the wound then the clothes.

When Leonard McCoy guides the transport unit to a stop in front of the house Ismae turns to offer a polite smile.

"Thank you, Leonard McCoy." She says, hand drifting to rest over her heart.

"You want me to walk in with you?" He motions toward the door.

Ismae shakes her head, the door already open, one leg out. "No thank you. It would be best if I didn't bother you further."

And then she's slipping out of the truck and moving to pull her bike off the back. Once the wheels touch the ground Ismae begins limping toward the front door where her grandmother is waiting.

When the crunch of gravel under tires sounds Ismae finds herself glancing back to watch as Leonard McCoy makes his way back down the drive.

~X~

"Jordan Blount and his brother ran an alien off the road today." Leonard tells his parents that evening at dinner.

He can't stop thinking about it.

He'd been running errands for his dad, dropping some things off at Anne Ross' place that his dad had repaired for her a few days earlier, and while he isn't legally able to drive around without an adult but it's not like anyone in town is going to tattle on him to the cops. And he'd been on his way to Anne Ross' when he'd passed the rusted truck that belongs to Jordan Blount.

And something in his gut had gone cold.

Because last year an Orion boy had been found dead on the banks of the creek near Leonard's home. The boy couldn't have been older than three or four, there'd been a missing person's report, and then his body had been found... Someone had forced his head underwater, there'd been defensive wounds, and everyone knew who did it but with no real evidence to back it up the cops couldn't convict anyone.

But everyone knew.

Jordan Blount and his brother aren't quiet about their xenophobia.

So Leonard coasts along the road, eyes peeled for any sign of a body, and he finds one sitting in the ditch next to a pastel blue bike with a little white basket on the front.

Of course he'd helped the girl, took her home, let her use the medkit his dad keeps handy for situations not so unlike hers.

"Is everyone ok?" His mamma demands, eyes sharp.

"She had some scrapes and bruising but they didn't kill her."

"Her?" His dad purses his lips for a moment, "You wouldn't happen to be talking about Sophia Wolfe's granddaughter would you?"

"That's her."

"Oh, poor dear, she's so sweet. I met her you know. Just the other day I went to Sophia's to ask if she'd seen Hank after he'd slipped his leash. Sophia wasn't home but that girl put on a pair of shoes and wondered around near the creek and the old cemetery with me until we found him." His mamma casts a reproachful look to the old black lab laying next to the door.

"That was nice of her."

"She was very sweet, David," his mamma turns her attention to him. "You did make sure she got home safe didn't you?"

"Yes ma'am. Put her bike in the back of the truck and everything."

"You're a good boy, Leo."

Leonard tries not to scowl. Good boy. It makes him sound like a dog. His mamma means well though so Leonard keeps his mouth shut and bites into his burger with a bit more vigor than is really necessary for eating a burger. Neither of his parents comment on his table manors, instead they go about their own conversations and Leonard listens in when he finds himself interested.

When they start talking about field crops Leonard turns his attention away.

It isn't until almost halfway through the meal that his mother turns her attention to Leonard.

"I want you to ask that girl to see a holovid."

"I'm sorry?"

"There aren't many children around these parts, Leonard, and if there are they're either too young to be much of a friend or their parents don't want them hanging out with an alien."

"But she's a kid..."

"She is almost twelve years old."

"How do you know?"

"I asked Sophia how old her granddaughter was when she told me Henry's kid was coming to visit."

That... Makes sense.

Sophia Wolfe and Jennifer McCoy have known each other for years now and Leonard thinks that the reason they're so close to the Wolfe family is because Sophia had been so nice to his mamma when his parents moved to Georgia. Good woman, Sophia Wolfe. But Leonard doesn't know anything about Ismae Wolfe. Not her birthday, not her planet, not her favorite food.

All he knows is a name.

And that really isn't enough to build a friendship. But his mother looks so determined and it would give the Blounts a reason to stay away from her. After all, David McCoy is a very prominent member of the community which means that if any of the Blounts were to do something so openly to Leonard or any of his friends... Leonard sighs, stabs at his green beans, and nods.

His mother's fingers carding through his hair is the only reward he gets for accepting her request to befriend the little pink haired girl with the molten eyes.

~X~

A few days later Ismae and her grandmother are invited to the McCoy's for dinner.

Sophia hasn't stopped fretting over Ismae since she'd returned home after the Blouts had forced her off the road. Her mother and father haven't been much better. After Ismae had been situated in the kitchen Sophia had contacted her parents and told them everything. There'd been some angry words from her mother and a terse questioning from her father but as there really hadn't been anything either of them could do they'd been forced to let it drop.

Told Ismae to be more careful though.

Since then she hasn't taken the bike on the main road. Instead she rides along the little back roads to the creek or the little wooded area, but never the asphalt strip that connects the houses in the country to the main road leading into town.

And now she's standing in front of the bathroom mirror trying to get the mass of her hair to cooperate so she can tie it out of her face with a ribbon of black satin. Her grandmother had said that it was a casual dinner and so Ismae has dressed as casually as her upbringing will allow. Which means she's currently wearing a short sleeved dress made of pale blue silk with little mother of pearl buttons down the front.

Ismae doesn't own casual clothing.

Well, she does. Technically. But this she's going to dinner with people she has never met before and her mother would be appalled if she wore ripped jeans and a paint splattered shirt. So this dress? This dress with the silk and mother of pear buttons and the little black shoes that go with it are the only thing Ismae is willing to deam casual enough for dinner.

"Ismae, honey, you ready?" Her grandmother asks from the other side of the door.

Ismae casts a fleeting glance to the cosmetics sitting on the counter.

Typically Ismae would apply the shimmering powder to the bridge of her nose and her cheekbones and to her collarbones. Anywhere the tone of her skin is more gold than earthen tan but... Ismae isn't on Atrolla. It's not expected of her, no one would understand why she would wear it here on Earth... But... That doesn't mean Ismae's fingers down hesitate on the lid of one of the small containers.

"Yes, one moment."

She forces herself to turn away from the cosmetics, forces herself not to feel naked, forces herself to pull open the door.

Her grandmother is offering a kind smile, dressed in a pair of nice jeans and a button up shirt.

"You're wearing jeans." Ismae forces herself not to tug at the hem of her skirt.

 _It's fine_ , she tells herself, _you're fine_.

Her grandmother reaches out to stroke Ismae's cheek with her knuckle.

"It's fine, honey, they'll understand."

It's like permission, it's like a reassurance that these people are not like the Blounts. It's like Sophia Wolfe has untied the rope that has been coiling around Ismae's neck for the past three or so hours.

Without much though she turns and makes her way back into the bathroom, reaching for the tin of shimmering powder. She unscrews the lid, dips her middle finger in, and quickly streaks the powder over gold toned flesh. Once that's done Ismae reaches for the cosmetic brush and brushes the excess powder away until there's nothing but gleaming skin that shines like starlight in the bright light of the bathroom.

Ismae closes up the tin and puts it away.

"I'm ready, nonna." She says, turning to step out fo the bathroom.

"Then we should go."

Her grandmother doesn't ask about the shimmering powder that covers her in a fine layer, doesn't mention how it shines almost too brightly in the hall lights, doesn't ask why she only ever wears it when they're going out for lunch or dinner or when they've been invited to other people's houses. It's a cultural thing Sophia must think, not that she'd be entirely wrong in that assumption.

But she doesn't ask and Ismae doesn't elaborate.

She just climbs into the passenger seat of the transport unit, taking the dish her grandmother offers, and counts the minutes before her grandmother begins driving up the long drive to the Mccoy house. There are people waiting on the front porch.

A tall man with blonde hair, dressed in a perfectly ironed pair of pants and a black shirt, a woman with dark brown tresses, dressed in a yellow dress and a black cardigan, and then Leonard, who looks less than pleased to be there. Ismae tightens her grip on the dish in her hand before sliding out of the transport unit. She shouldn't be nervous. Why _is_ she nervous? Her grandmother has said nothing but nice things about the McCoys.

But each step takes Ismae closer to the two-story home and the closer they get the harder it is to breathe properly.

What if they don't like her? What if she says something mildly offensive that she doesn't realize is offensive.

Ismae doesn't want to be hated.

The idea of it, of people not at least tolerating her, makes Ismae want to cry.

And suddenly there's a hollow _thunk thunk thunk_ beneath Ismae's feet as she ascends the front steps leading to the porch where she offers an awkward hand for the man to shake.

It's odd to her. Offering hands like this. There's no stipulations on physical contact on Atrolla, nudity and sex and bodies are nothing to be ashamed of on Ismae's planet, but they do not shake hands when first meeting. It wouldn't be frowned upon if they did, nothing would happen, it's just not something Atrollian's do. Because when Atrollian's greet they press their foreheads and the tips of their noses to those of the person they are greeting while slipping the palm of their right hands up to cup the back of the other's neck.

There's something more personal about it.

There is nothing personal about a hand shake.

"Ismae Wolfe." Ismae introduces herself as steadily as she can.

"David McCoy, you already know my wife and son."

"Good evening Mrs. McCoy."

"Jennifer, dear."

"Hello Leonard McCoy."

The dark eyed boy offers a thin smile and says, "Just Leonard."

Ismae nods briskly, accepting it for what it is... Or what it might be. Ismae isn't entirely sure about her relationship with the boy. He seems nice, really nice, if a bit abrasive. Ismae doesn't allow herself to fidget under those dark eyes. Thankfully David McCoy pushes the front door open and lets Jennifer guide Ismae and Sophia into the dinning room where she places the dish Sophia made onto the table.


	6. Chapter 6

Her aunt is a tiny woman with thin blonde hair, green eyes, and a dimple in her right cheek. Apparently she takes after her father because there are resemblances between Ismae's father and this woman but they are few and far between. The twins that toddle after her however, are dark haired and tanned skin with a pair of dark eyes.

Renee and Josie, that's what Sophia had said their names were. Apparently they're only two years old.

Ismae offers each of them a smile before her aunt is yanking her into a hug. The older woman smells like artificial roses and manufactured sunshine. Perfume. Too much perfume. But Ismae smiles and kisses her aunt's cheek and offers to take her bags up to her room.

"Thank you, Honey." Maria says, already pulling one child onto her hip while Sophia goes for the other one. "Just toss them on the floor, I'll deal with them when I go up."

The girl nods slowly before gathering up the bags and dragging them through the house to the first floor bedroom where Maria will be staying. When Ismae had asked about this Sophia had told her it was because sometimes the girls didn't sleep through the night and Maria liked access to the kitchen and living room where she wouldn't wake anyone else in the house up.

Ismae places the bags in a neat row to the left of the door and returns to the kitchen.

She's halfway to the table where Maria and Sophia and little Renee are sitting when a little hand winds around the hem of her skirt and tugs insistently. Ismae looks down to find a pair of big brown eyes staring back at her, little hands raised high into the air.

"Up... Up..."

Without much thought Ismae scoops the little one up and balances her on a hip, pointedly ignoring the displeasure that tries to creep up when grubby fingers press against her cheek bones, then the bridge of her nose, then the tip of an ear, her temple. The sensation of it is unpleasant, Josie's fingers are suspiciously sticky and the pull of their flesh as they separate makes Ismae a bit sick.

But she tries to ignore it because Josie is two and she didn't mean any hard by it. None. So Ismae sucks it up, sits at the table, and waits for the little one in her arms to stop her investigation of Ismae's person.

It takes several minutes but eventually Josie lays her head against Ismae's shoulder and lets out a little huff as she begins idly playing with pink hair.

"Ismae, honey, how's your dad?"

The girl turns bright golden eyes to her aunt and smiles politely, "He's well. The last time we spoke he told me that he'd been given another assignment."

She doesn't tell the others that his assignment involved peace negotiations between two planets at war in a system near enough to Atrolla's own that Ismae's people and Starfleet had insisted they send someone to help with the peace talks. Her father had been chosen. And while tensions are high Ismae isn't afraid. Her father is a smart man, he'll be alright.

"That's good," Maria says, "and when will he be visiting again? We hardly ever see him."

Across the table her grandmother clears her throat, eyes hard, and Maria turns her attention to the older woman for a moment.

"Maria, enough. Henry will come home when he's ready. Until then you leave it be."

"I'm only asking."

"You're meddling and it's not your place."

Ismae blinks slowly, rubbing her hand up and down Josie's back. It's not her place nor is it a topic she's familiar enough with to add anything important. Her father comms almost every day and he'd told Ismae that the next time he's planet side he'd take her to San Francisco so she can see the city. He hasn't been home since he joined Starfleet and Ismae suspects it's because there are bad memories in the house.

But it's not her place to say anything of the sort to Maria or her grandmother.

"How long are you staying?" Sophia asks after a moment.

"A few days at most, I have to be in Chicago by Sunday."

"Oh? A job?"

"Mhm. I'm photographing a wedding."

"Do you need someone to watch the girls?"

"No, thank you but Max's parents asked if they could babysit and since they're closer..."

Something passes across Sophia's face but it's gone seconds later.

"Oh, another time then?"

"Of course."

Ismae doesn't comment on the fact that she highly doubts Maria has any intention of letting the girls stay with Sophia without her being present or at least a phone call away.

Conversation turns to safer topics soon after. Maria asks about Atrolla and her mother and what she enjoys most about Earth so far and if she wants to follow in her parents footsteps and become a diplomat. Ismae is quick to inform her that while she thinks diplomacy is a very important aspect of any career choice she hasn't decided what field she'd like to pursue.

Maria just pats her hand and tells her she has time to decide before scooping the girls up and walking them to the bedroom they'll be staying in so she can put them down for a nap. Once she's gone Sophia reaches over and strokes Ismae's cheek. But she doesn't say anything, neither of them do, and Ismae takes comfort in the silent reassurance her grandmother is offering.

~X~

In the three days that Maria and her children stay with them in the farmhouse one of the walls in Ismae's rooms becomes a mess of hand panted masterpieces. Messy smears of colors and the awkward shape of a figure that's apparently supposed to look like Ismae but doesn't at all. Ismae loves them though and pins them to her wall with a certain reverence that had made her mother smile when Ismae had spoken to her the previous night.

When Maria and Sophia leave the house to go grocery shopping or to pay bills Ismae typically volunteers to watch the little ones.

She plays games with them, reads to them, sings them Atrollian lullabies when she lays them down for their naps. They might not be old enough to interact with the same way Ismae would interact with the friends that are closer to her age but she finds her cousins are amusing and fun to be with all the same.

So when Maria and the girls are driving down the drive three days later Ismae stands with Sophia and watches them go with dry eyes but a surprising sense of disappointment. Her grandmother reaches out to wrap an arm around her shoulder, pulls her closer, and when the car slips out of view she sighs.

"Come on inside, we'll have tea." Sophia says as she turns to make her way back into the house.

Ismae follows, noticing the tired pinch of her grandmother's face.

"Are you alright, Nonna?" Ismae asks when the front door closes.

"Just tired, honey. You're aunt can get a bit... Trying at times."

"Oh."

Sophia offers a smile as she goes to put the kettle on the stove. Afterwards she slides onto the stool at the island and Ismae follows suit, choosing to sit across from the older woman so that they can have a conversation without either of them having to twist around to make eye contact.

"Have you spoken to your parents?" Sophia asks after a moment.

"Yes, the evening before. Mother is in the Capital at another Senate meeting and Father will be returning from his trip soon."

"Good, good. I'm glad they're doing well."

"I am as well."

A long moment passes in which Sophia moves to pull the now screaming kettle off of the burner. Ismae watches as she fills two cups with water, both of which have been prepared with their teas of choice, and smiles as the cut with the rose colored water is slid toward her.

"Leonard McCoy called earlier."

"Oh?"

"He wanted to know if you'd be apposed to seeing a movie with him tonight."

Ismae frowns. "Why would he ask?"

"I think his mamma wants the two of you to be friends."

"I see."

"He's a good boy, Ismae, and he wouldn't have called if he didn't at least want to attempt to make friends."

This isn't necessarily a lie but Ismae still thinks there's something a bit odd about ti.

"Wouldn't it be strange? Me being so young?"

"Not really. There aren't many kids around these parts and you're mature for your age." Sophia offers a mischievous smile. "Besides, I already told him you'd be delighted."

"Nonna." Ismae tries to reprimand the older woman.

"Just this once, Ismae, please? You'll be leaving soon and I'd feel terrible if you didn't make at least one friend."

The two stare at each other for a long moment before Ismae sighs.

"Alright," she says, "I'll go."

"Excellent! He'll be here at six to pick you up."

"Can he even drive legally?"

"He has his permit and the sheriff in town is close with his daddy. The two of you will be able to drive to the drive-in and back without any trouble."

"Alright."

They lapse into a companionable silence and Ismae glances at the clock. She has three hours to kill before Leonard McCoy comes to pick her up and take her to the movie.

Honestly, she's glad Leonard isn't coming to take her to the movies for more... Personal reasons.

The age difference between them couldn't be more then three or four years and even on Atrolla that isn't an awful gap. Her parents have nearly seven years between them and even that isn't considered uncommon. Besides, political matches are still some-what common and while her parents would never force her into a relationship it's not like matches haven't been discussed.

Is it the same with Terran families?

 _No_ , Ismae thinks as she takes a sip of raspberry flavored tea, _Leonard's mother wants them to be friends. That's all_.

With that thought Ismae focuses on her grandmother and the conversation the older woman offers and finishes up her tea before heading up to her room so that she can set out an outfit for the evening. She decides on a black button down dress with white flowers along the trim and a pair of white sandals. And Ismae drapes them across her bed before she moves to contact her parents.

~X~

Leonard McCoy shows up at exactly six o'clock. He's in a pair of dark pants, a white shirt, and his hair has been combed back. Either he put in the effort to look nice or his mamma forced him. Whichever the case may be, he looks swell.

"Have fun, kids!" Sophia calls as Ismae and Leonard make their way to the truck parked in the drive.

Ismae smiles at her grandmother before sliding into the passenger seat. Leonard follows and they're almost to the main road leading into town when the older boy finally says something.

"Do Atrollians have TV?"

"I suppose it depends on where you are? Halitus is known for it's theatrical performances and there's always something being performed, Shialbi and Fahi are where many of the Holovids are produced, and then the Capital is more of mesh of all."

"Oh... Sounds nice." Leonard remarks as he stops at a little red sign. "They're showing old James Bond movies at the drive-in this week and I thought you'd like it?"

"James Bond?"

"Uh... Old Earth spy movies involved a lot of James Bond. My dad's a fan."

"Oh, sounds interesting."

"Depends on the movie. Not a big fan myself."

Oh.

"We don't have to see a movie, Leonard. You didn't even have to invite me out."

And the older boy turns to level her with a look that almost makes Ismae wish she hadn't said anything at all. But she did say it and she has to stick by it. Because she wasn't lying and Leonard is under no obligations to be her friend... But then he's offering a small, tight lipped smile and his eyes are soft.

"I know..." a long pause passes between them and then, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to."

It's the only reassurance Ismae needs. She smiles at the older boy and leans back to watch as roads and houses shoot by, and when Leonard pulls into the drive-in Ismae is struck by the amount of cars lined up in the field.

Leonard doesn't comment on it though. Instead he pulls into an empty slot between two trucks, fiddles with the radio stations until he gets the one he wants, and settles down just in time for the opening credits to start playing. The Atrollian watches, fascinated, as a handsome man in a well made suit shoots and seduces his way through the film. Laughing and bleeding and reminding Ismae very much of her father.

At some point Leonard leaves and returns with snacks for them both and Ismae slips the credits she owes him into his hand despite his protests. Which only stop when Ismae shooshes him and returns her attention to James Bond and Domino Derval, who has just shot a man in the back.

"That was amazing." Ismae states when the end credits begin to roll.

"If you liked that you should see the newer versions. I heard Citalia Jayllir is playing in the next movie."

"Citalia Jayllir? The Orion woman?" Something flutters in Ismae's chest.

Because Citalia Jayllir is famous. Even on Atrolla. Ismae has seen many of her holovids and there's something about the woman that makes Ismae want to die a happy death.

Citalia Jayllir is just that amazing.

And Leonard snorts loudly when she says as much.

Neither of them talk about it much after that. They just sit in comfortable silence and watch as the movie ends, credits rolling in hazy focus that Ismae can only just make out. Leonard waits until the screen goes black then white before starting up his transport unit. They're one of the only three groups left, the rest having gone when the credits began, and they slip out of the lot with little difficulty.

"You hungry? I know a place not far that's still open around this time... They serve a wide range of people so you should be able to find something you'd like." Leonard says when they get to the road.

"If it's not out of your way I wouldn't be opposed." Ismae replies.

Her companion shakes his head, tells her he'd like a burger himself, and turns down the road to make his way toward town. If he's afraid of getting pulled over her doesn't say so and soon the two of them are parked between a sleek blue cruiser with gold detailing and an old Terran transport unit that looks like it's about fifty or so years old.

Not a classic, per say, but definitely close.

Inside the diner are an assortment of men and women. Andorians and Terrans and Betazoids and even a Vulan woman sitting with a Romulan male at a table in the back. Which is, needless to say, incredibly odd for both of them seeing as Romulans tend to view other species as inferior and so would likely avoid a place such as this and Vulcans don't tend to actively engage with others in places like this.

But Ismae leaves them be and follows Leonard to the bar where a Betazoid male waits.

"Oslan, how are you this evening?"

The Betazoid smiles, black eyes incredibly warm as he says, "I'm well! And yourself? Who's your friend?"

He already knows who she is, Ismae is sure, but it looks like he's trying to be polite so she extends her hand as she's seen many Terrans do and smiles.

"My name is Ismae."

"Ismae... You wouldn't happen to be Senator Alrix's girl?"

"Senator Alrix is my mother, may I ask how you are acquainted?" Ismae asks.

The Betazoid laughs.

"I watched a holo-recording of your mother's speech when she came to promote interplanetary politics on Betazed." The Betazoid's smile is kind. "She's an incredible woman."

"Thank you."

He nods once before asking what they'd like to drink. Leonard gets water, Ismae hot tea, and they drink in companionable silence for a while until Ismae grows tired of silence and turns to face her maybe friend.

"Do you come here often?" Ismae asks.

"S'pose so... I like the burgers." Leonard replies, eyes bright and kind.

"That's nice." Ismae plays with her spoon, terribly unbecoming of a senator's child but no one is here to witness it. "Where I grew up there's a restaurant that serves different food assortments. I think you'd like it."

"Why's that?"

"I honestly don't know."

Leonard stares at her for a long moment before nodding his head.

When their food comes Ismae begins to eat while making conversation with Leonard. They talk about their families and their hobbies and Ismae learns that Leonard's snark isn't a sign of his distaste the longer she spends in his company. Which is a relief because Ismae might have still been harboring some doubts.

By the time their food is finished and the plates cleared away Ismae has managed to get Leonard to laugh at some of her jokes, she's even taught him a few words in her mother tongue. Something that would have made many of the senator's rage. For even with their acceptance of human culture many Atrollian customs have been kept in the dark. Religion, certain celebrations, their native language, and the... Abilities.

Ismae clears her throat, fingers moving for a translator that isn't there.

"Are you alright?" Leonard asks.

"Oh, yes, sorry." Ismae drops her hand. "I haven't used a translator in years but... Many of the people on my planet use them."

"Not a fan of standard, huh?"

"Some aren't, no. It's a required language now on Atrolla, however, many of my schoolmates are already proficient in the language." Ismae replies.

"Just not the older generation?"

"They think that certain aspects of our culture are sacred to us and don't want it to be lost or stolen."

"Most humans don't tend to steal languages now-a-days."

"No, but others do."

Leonard glances around the diner. The Vulcan and the Romulan are gone, the Betazoid behind the counter is beginning to clean up, and there are stragglers in the corner singing and dancing drunkenly. Ismae thinks she sees understanding in his eyes and smiles kindly.

"It's not a dislike for humans that make my people cautious, Leonard," she says. "It's an active attempt to keep the past from repeating itself."

"You're trying to tell me your culture was stolen from you?" He demands.

Ismae's smile is kind, "By the Roskoren. It is why we went to war."

She doesn't elaborate and he does not ask her too.

Instead they pay for their meals and head back out to the transport unit. And when the diner is a smear of color on the horizon Ismae begins to wonder if things would have been different if the war had not come to pass, wonders what would have happened had Reskore not attacked them, what would happen had Atrolla not risen with a fiery vengeance to wipe away the smear of their neighboring planet.

Wonders if her planet's fate would have been that of the dusty ruins peppering the planet of Reskore had the war not been won.


	7. Chapter 7

"Don't get up. I'm comfortable like this."

The only problem is that Ismae is not. Leonard isn't heavy necessarily, and if he were Ismae wouldn't say, but his head has been in her lap for the past hour and forty minutes. Ismae's foot tingles whenever she wiggles her toes and while carding her fingers through Leonard's hair while she reads is nice being able to actually feel her legs would be better.

"But Lenny," Ismae coos, "my leg hurts."

"I hate you."

"That's not what you said when Vivian Sommers called you 'Lenny'."

"When she says it it's cute."

"Trust me, Leonard, it most certainly is not."

The older boy scoffs before rolling off of her. He stretches out, arms rising high above his head, head rolling to the left then to the right, and then he drops his hands and moves to sit against the tree Ismae's been leaning against. Sparing a moment from her book Ismae turns to smile at her friend, her very best friend, then turns her attention away.

Beside her Leonard sighs.

"Summer's almost over." Leonard remarks. "Have you parents told you when you're going home."

"They want me home by the beginning of September." Ismae replies.

"I see."

"Oh come on, Leonard." Ismae laughs as she shuts her book and uses the cover to hit her friend in the shoulder. "Don't tell me you're gonna miss me."

"Of course I'm going to miss you. Believe it or not you've been the most exciting part of my life." Leonard retorts gruffly.

Something warm blooms in Ismae's chest causing her to put her book to the side and lean over so she can rest her head on Leonard's shoulder.

"You can comm me all the time. Every day if you want. My mother also said you could come and visit if you wanted to but I told her that you didn't necessarily like the idea of space travel so there's that... All else fails you and I can just see each other over the summer."

"If you're not off on some exotic planet."

"Oh please, I won't go off to some exotic planet until _after_ I've graduated." Ismae laughs.

"So you're joining Starfleet then?" Leonard asks.

"I don't know. Maybe? I want to help people and I want to travel so naturally Starfleet would be the best option but... My parents are both political figures and I feel like it's... Something they'd want me to be as well." Ismae says.

"They'll still be your parents either way, Mae, they'll love you no matter what."

"Yeah but I don't want to disappoint them and..."

"And?"

"And it's nothing. Don't worry."

Leonard makes a noise in the back of his throat before glancing at his watch. Ismae turns her attention back to the little creek they've been sitting by for the past couple of hours.

It's pretty.

All sandy banks and babbling waters and the willow tree she and Leonard have taken cover beneath.

Willow trees are fascinating. They don't have them on Atrolla. But Ismae finds them beautiful. She even managed to get Leonard to wear the crown she'd woven out of some of the dangling branches.

Ismae watches as the branches wave in the gentle breeze, back and forth over and over and over, sometimes obscuring her view of the creek, and it's more relaxing then one would think... Or it is, until the boisterous laughter of two men causes Leonard to tense up beneath her.

"Ismae," he hisses, "if I tell you to run you run."

He doesn't wait for a response. Instead Leonard grabs her book from the grass, takes hold of her wrist, and pulls her off the ground. Out of the corner of her eye Ismae manages to catch sight of a tall man with thinning blonde hair and a stouter man with peppered hair. Neither are unattractive but Ismae wouldn't call them handsome. She'll blame that on the stained shirts and the sneers they send her way when they catch sight of her.

The hand around her wrist tightens as Leonard pulls her away from the men.

"Well if it isn't little Leo McCoy and his _f_ _riend_." The way he says it is more of a snarl then anything.

"Jordan, Anthony, we were just on our way." Leonard's reply is clipped.

Ismae swallows.

Her grandmother had said that it was Jordan Blount and his brother that had run her off the road, that there were rumors that the Blount brothers drowned a little Orion boy in the creek, that she needed to stay far away from the both of them. A valiant attempt had been made. Ismae didn't go anywhere she'd heard the Blounts hung around and with as much time as she'd been spending with Leonard there hadn't been any difficulty in following her grandmother's demand.

 _Fuck_ , Ismae thinks, _fuck it all_.

Because she'd tried and she'd failed and Ismae doesn't doubt that these men would easily drown Leonard in the creek before stringing her up by her toes and flaying her alive.

"Why the rush? We ain't gonna hurt ya." The dark haired one practically growls.

"My mother is expecting _us_." Leonard replies, already guiding Ismae away.

"You're mother's a good woman, too bad she ended up with your daddy."

Leonard goes still, still, still.

"What did you say?" Leonard snarls.

And the blonde one's smile has too much teeth, "Oh you heard me. You're good for nothin' daddy ruined that woman. Made her... Not right in the head. Consortin' with aliens and the like."

"I am Atrollian, not an alien, and I highly doubt that by being a _doctor_ David McCoy somehow ruined Jennifer. That woman wouldn't hurt a hair on anybody's head and she certainly wouldn't attempt to run someone off the road because of false beliefs."

This time that smile is directed at her.

"Atrollian you say, funny, I've heard some pretty interestin' shit about your kind." The blond snaps.

"Heard your kind like suckin co-"

The man breaks off with a startled, wordless cry as the rock Leonard had thrown smacks into his face. Ismae only has enough time to see the gush of run that pours from his nose before Leonard begins tugging her across the dirt and through the creek, completely ignoring the fallen tree they'd used as a bridge, and the moment they touch the bank he's urging her to run alongside him back to the house.

"You fucking little shit!"

Ismae sucks in a breath as she lets the other boy pull her along.

They run and run and run until the McCoy house appears in the distance and then they run some more. Leonard helps her scale the wooden fence that runs along the back side of their property before expertly jumping over himself. Together, they crash through the back door panting and laughing nervously as they attempt to catch their breath.

No one else is home.

Jessica is in Atlanta with her husband at a conference and Sophia went shopping before she and Leonard went to the creek. Neither of them will be back until later. Which means that until then she and Leonard have the house to themselves. Which means no one's around to witness the two of them leaning against the door, sweating and panting and staring at each other with nervous, laughing eyes.

Neither of them break the silence that lingers between them but Leonard does go and get two glasses of tea for them before leading Ismae into the sitting room.

 _Living room_ , she reminds herself, i _t's a living room on Terra_.

Without much thought Ismae drops down onto the couch beside Leonard, curls so that her feet rest beneath her, and leans against her friend while he turns on the news.

A pretty Caitian female appears before them, one of her ears has three silver rings near the tip and her eyes are a startling shade of green but Ismae isn't bothered by either of these things. She's more interested in the way the female tenses as she listens to her partner talk.

"Thank you, L'tora," The Caitian says as the other female stops talking. "In current news three Betazoids have gone missing. Witnesses say that the three had last been seen leaving a bar in Chicago. If anyone has any information pertaining to the disappearance of these young men and woman please contact the proper authorities."

Leonard mutes the female before they can hear about any of the possibly gory details of the kidnapping.

"This is the third kidnapping this summer." Ismae states after a long moment.

"Yeah."

"Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know. Maybe people are just nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs."

"What does that even mean?"

"Means people are skittish." Leonard plays with the end of her braid. "I think, and I might be wrong, but i think people are gettin' worried and then blowing things outta proportion."

"So maybe those Betazoids just... Left? Walked out of that bard, decided they didn't want to go back to their apartment, and just left without telling anyone?"

"Maybe."

"Come on, Leonard, you aren't that stupid."

Beneath her cheek Leonard's shoulder goes tense. To the point where Ismae can practically feel the strain of his muscles. Deep down she knows she should feel bad about that one, Leonard isn't trying to be naive. He's trying to comfort her to the best of his abilities. The problem is that this isn't the first kidnapping, nor is it the first murder of a humanoid being.

Leonard might be trying to comfort her but there's no comfort to be found in lies.

Ismae curls up tighter and allows Leonard to slip his arm around her shoulders so he can play with her hair while he flips to another channel. This time the men and women on the holo aren't talking about missing Betazoids or murdered dignitaries. Instead the men and women are dancing in a room made of nothing but black and white, the quality of the screen is poor but it's sweet to watch as the main character twirls his partner around the floor.

"Do you dance on Atrolla?" Leonard asks.

"Mhm. Many of our festivals and religious holidays include dancing." Ismae replies.

"My mamma taught me to waltz... Is it anything like that?"

"No, not really."

"Oh." Leonard manages to pull the tie keeping her braid in place and carefully unwinds the strands. "Would you teach me?"

And Ismae twists to smile at her dark eyed friend as she practically squeals, "I would like nothing more."

So they slip off the couch and push the coffee table out of the way to make room in the living room. When Ismae makes an off handed remark about music Leonard goes and gets his father's old CD player, which is practically archaic, and slips in a disk with a worn picture of a woman painted on the front. The music that sifts through the room is bold and loud and Ismae doesn't recognize it but she loves it.

"Classical!" Leonard calls out when Ismae asks what they're listening too.

 _Classical_.

Ismae throws her head back and laughs, because the music doesn't fit. It's too powerful too fast and it's too loud but Ismae thinks it's thrilling. So she ignores the awkwardness of her steps as she leads Leonard through one of the more traditional dances of her people.

~X~

Another non-human disappears two days later. This time a child who'd been walking home from school in Fairfax, Virginia. Ten years old, she's ten years old and the news tells everyone that she'd been the winner of her school's spelling bee. Ismae watches as her face flashes across the screen for the third time since the news reporters began discussing her disappearance.

She's an Arcadian.

Three days later the same news reports tell the world that the girl's body had been found in an alley between a bar and a restaraunt in Richmond. She'd been sexually assaulted before whoever took her killed her and left her body, broken and filthy, hidden behind a dumpster.

Sophia makes a strange choking noise from the couch but Ismae can't be bothered to wonder if it's horror or shock that makes her grandmother react as she does. Personally, Ismae is more angry then shocked.

Because this? This isn't shocking.

It's horrible and it's depraved and she'd never wish this on anyone and yet someone had the audacity to defile a child before leaving her body to the bugs and the starving dogs in the streets.

"They'll get what's coming to them by the Grace of God." Sophia mutters bitterly as the news casters go to commercial.

"As long as they suffer." Ismae growls.

And she's never been a violent person but this time she'll make an exception.

~X~

"Ismae, honey, don't come in here." Her grandmother calls from the kitchen when she finally notices Ismae standing in the doorway. "There's glass."

A quick glance around confirms that, yes, there is broken glass on the floor as well as a brick. Ismae stares at the brick for a long moment before stepping into the kitchen.

Glass crunches beneath her feet as she makes her way over to where her grandmother is attempting to sweep the shards of her window into a dustpan. There are more efficient ways of doing it, Ismae knows, but Sophia Wolfe is nothing if not an old soul. She's not going to change her personal preferences just because an automated cleaner is easier.

So Ismae holds the pan and allows her grandmother to sweep the little shards into it before dumping the mess into the rubbish bin.

When they're done sweeping and mopping Ismae grabs the brick, tosses between her hands, and turns an inquisitive eye on her grandmother.

"Don't worry about it, Ismae." Her grandmother whispers, "It's just people being stupid."

"Stupid people do stupid things and people get hurt." Ismae reminds her grandmother as sagely as possible.

But she's angry. So, so angry.

Angry at whoever threw that brick through the window, angry at herself for not being there when it happened- for not being able to stop the people who did it, and angry at her grandmother for acting like it isn't an issue.

Acting like Ismae isn't aware of the reason the Blount brothers threw that brick through their kitchen window.

Because who else would have done it if not those two xenophobic pricks? Certainly not Leonard or his parents.

With an angry huff Ismae leans back against the counter, the brick in her hand rough and heavy. Her grandmother watches her for a long moment before moving to push some of her hair behind her ears.

"Honey, they're small people with small minds and there's nothing you can do to change them."

"But I don't understand why they're doing this!" Ismae practically screams, her anger and her fear and the frustration bleeding into one writhing mass of hurt. "Why do that hate us so much?"

 _Us_ being every non-human in the universe.

Her grandmother hugs her. "They don't hate you. They're afraid of you. After what happened with the Kelvin... People just... They need someone to blame and it's not ok, it's not acceptable for them to treat off-worlders like this but they do and they can't be changed."

"So I'm supposed to sit by and let them harass you?" Ismae demands.

"Honey, this won't be forever. Things'll change."

Ismae isn't aware she'd crying until her grandmother is wiping her tears away with her thumbs. They stand there for several moments, quiet and still, until her grandmother pulls away and tells her to wash up for lunch. Ismae goes without much fuss, more interested in keeping as much stress out of her grandmother's life as possible then in a meal. But she does cast the older woman a look before she leaves.

And Sophia Wolfe just offers a calm smile as she moves toward the Comm device resting on the counter next to her purse.

~X~

After that things get quiet. Sophia calls a man to come in an repair her window, Leonard starts showing up at the house, and Ismae doesn't see hide nor hair of the Blounts despite the fact that she's purposefully seeking them out. But things aren't just quiet in their little section of the world. Oh no, it's all over.

The man who'd kidnapped the Arcadian girl is found and sentenced to life in prison.

The Betazoids are found in some little town in Illinois high out of their minds on an Orion drug.

Things get quiet.

And Ismae stops looking over her shoulder every time she steps out of her house, stops worrying about whether or not she locked the doors before going to bed, stops wondering if someone is going to try to smother her in her sleep.

It's her worst mistake, being lulled into a sense of security.

Not, of course, that she realizes this. She's young after all, younger still by the standards of her own people. The cruelty of the world if new to her and while it's slowly invading her life it has yet to ruin the sweet naivety of youth.

Ismae and Leonard play in the creek and return to their houses with muddied clothes, fat with sunshine and laughter. Sometimes there's blood on their knees or bruises on their arms but that's the worst of their injuries and no one ever questions it. They just get the dermal regenerator out and fix what needs fixing before sending the young ones back into the wild of the backyard.

And slowly the fear, the caution, gives way to childish mischief and a burning need for exploration.

It isn't until weeks later, mere days before she's supposed to return to Atrolla and the family waiting for her there, that the illusion of peace shatters and slipped through their fingers like dust in the wind.

The day begins like any other day.

Ismae wakes up, kicks off her covers, gets up, makes her bed, and changes into the day's clothes. Today she chooses to wear a pair of denim shorts and a white shirt with a pair of black shoes. Once she's dressed she makes her way to the kitchen where her grandmother is making breakfast, after she eats Ismae helps with chores around the house, and when that's done Ismae grabs her bike and begins the trip to Leonard's house.

The older boy is waiting for her on his porch.

"Leonard! Hello!" Ismae calls as she pedals up the drive.

"Mornin' Ismae." Leonard calls back, "Got any plans today?"

"No, why?"

Ismae guides her bike to the side of the house where she leans it against the house. When she steps back away from the bike Leonard is there with his hands tucked into his pockets and a wide grin on his face. Ismae can't help but copy it.

"Just wondering' if you wanted to eat lunch at Oslan's. My treat."

"What's the occasion?" Ismae demands, hand on her hips.

"Consider it a goin' away present."

Instantly, the smile on Ismae's face fades to something a bit sadder.

"You'll comm me right? After I leave?" She asks instead of answering.

"What are you talking about? Of course." Leonard looks almost offended by the suggestion. "Now come on. I got us a table waiting at Oslan's."

His fingers wrap around her elbow, insistent but not demanding, and Ismae allows him to lead her to the truck waiting outside the garage. Of all the times they've taken the transport unit to Oslan's this is the only time Ismae doesn't find herself glancing at the house to see whether Leonard's parents will come out and demand he relinquish the keys.

It's likely because this will be one of the last times they've taken the battered hunk of metal.

During the drive, which is relatively short all things considered, the two of them listen to David McCoy's collection of old country singers. Ismae drums her fingers against her knee as Leonard pulls the truck into a slot outside the brightly colored diner. Once he cuts the engine Ismae opens her door, climbs out of of the truck, and dusts herself off before closing the door.

Leonard smiles as her as he walks toward the front door.

Ismae follows, not expecting to find the small diner near full of both humans and off-worlders. It's a pleasant surprise and Ismae smiles as Leonard guides her to one of the only empty tables in the restaurant. She settles into one of the chairs, smiling as Leonard rolls his eyes and lowers himself into the other, before reaching for one of the menus off to the side of the table.

"Is it bad of me to just get desert? I feel like I deserve it." She remarks absently.

A quick glance at the desert list is unnecessary but Ismae takes one anyway. She's leaning toward a Coridan dish but then her eyes drop and _oh_ , Oslan put an Atrollian desert on the menu.

Leonard snorts, "You should probably eat something. Your grandma would kill me if I didn't feed you."

"Technically," Ismae glances at Leonard over the menu, "desert is a food. Therefore, you are feeding me."

"No, desert is a cesspit of obesity, high blood pressure, and inflamation." Leonard snarkily retorts. "You're going to die of heart disease before you're thirty with the way you eat."

"My people metabolize foods faster then most species. Sugar is nothing to me." Ismae makes a point of tearing open one of the yellow packets of coffee sweetener and pouring it onto her tongue.

Leonard watches through dark, amused eyes as the artificial sweetener catches in the back of Ismae's throat and causes the younger girl to couch and hack and choke until Leonard finds it in himself to ask a passing waitress for a glass of water. Ismae drinks it greedily, fully aware of Leonard's shaking shoulders and barely repressed smile.

When Ismae puts the glass down on the table the contents are gone and Ismae doesn't feel like she just tried to swallow three pounds of chalk.

"That was awful. I'll never eat sugar again." She moans. "I almost died!"

"Oh, bless your heart sugar."

"I hate you."

Leonard just laughs.

Laughs and laughs and laughs until his laughter cuts off too sharply, too quickly.

Ismae looks away from the spot on the table she'd been temporarily glaring at and turns her attention to Leonard. He's gone pale, a chalky-white that makes the brown of his eyes seem almost black. Glancing at the fingers curled into white knuckled fists is what makes Ismae twist around to see what Leonard is staring at, to see what made him go so... Still.

Because Leonard gets nervous, yes, but he never gets this scared.

Scared enough to forgo his usual defense tactics which usually include too much sarcasm and southern idiosyncrasies that Ismae doesn't quite understand.

The scrape of her chair's legs dragging across the floor is the only sound Ismae hears before the sharp _crack_ , _crack_ , _crack_ of something firing into the diner and the terrorized screams of humans and non-humans alike. After that? It's chaos.

Around her men and women are attempting to duck under tables or run away from the two men standing in the front of the restaurant, both of whom are holding outdated hunting rifles and firing into the panicking crowd. Ismae watches, horrified, as the two men step further into the diner. Someone yanks her out of her chair, onto the floor, and under the table.

 _Leonard, it's Leonard_.

Ismae opens her mouth, to cry or to scream or to whisper she doesn't know, she never gets the chance. Because Leonard's fingers are over her mouth and he's pulling her back until they're both pressed against the wall, hidden from sight by the table above them and the chaos around them. Ismae sucks in a shaky breath and watches as a young human woman goes down in front of their table.

Pretty green eyes meet gold and there's so much... There's so much pain in those eyes that Ismae has to look away for a moment. Has to look at the bullet wound that's ripped a hole through the woman's side. It's likely the bullet is either lodged in her body or tore straight through her. Either way, she's choking on her own blood, fingers curling around the would like they can stop the bleeding, she's crying too.

The wet trails on her face blackened by the mascara she'd put on before she left her home.

So much pain.

So much resignation to her own death.

Without thinking Ismae shakes herself from Leonard's grip and crawls across the floor to where the woman is dying despite Leonard's frantic attempts to keep her from risking exposure.

In the distance Ismae can hear the wailing of sirens, can hear the screaming of the injured and the scared, can here the two loud cracks of guns going off and the twin thumps of bodies hitting the ground before everything so silent. It only lasts a second. One second of silence and there there's moaning and sobbing and Ismae doesn't realize she's talking until she's got the woman's hands clasped between her own.

"I... I..." Blood sprays from the woman's mouth as she tries to speak.

"Don't. Don't. It's ok... I'm so sorry." Ismae sobs, lacing her fingers through the other woman's.

Ismae bites her lips to keep from screaming as she lowers her forehead to rest against the woman's. She just wants to help, just wants to make the pain stop, because that's all she can do. This woman is likely going to die and Ismae just wants to make the pain go away.

 _Go away, go away, go away._

Something ancient and primal shifts, clicks into place, the sounds around her fading into a distant sort of hazy buzz. A nanosecond. It takes a nanosecond for the pain to flood her system. A burning sensation in her side right between her ribs and her lung, a desperate sort of fear that closes her throat and makes it difficult to breathe, a sharp sensation every time she takes a breath.

And then nothing.

The woman is dying and Leonard is pulling her away and the gold that had once stained Ismae's knuckles is now blacker then the vast expanse of space.

Ismae looks at the woman, forces herself to meet those dying green eyes.

This time there's no pain, no desperation, no fear. Just a steadiness that wasn't there moment ago before Ismae's own biology offered the woman a final moment of peace.

"Ismae come on," Leonard is begging. "Come on we gotta go. The cops are here."

She allows Leonard to drag her out from under the table, allows him to pull her through the restaurant, allows him to press her face into his shoulder in an attempt to hide the dead and dying from her view.

it's too late.

She's already seen them, already felt their fear, tasted it like a fine wine.

Ismae sucks in a steadying breath as Leonard leads her to a medic. The blood on her hands and her knees and her forehead is getting cold, tacky, it's drying to her body but Ismae can't bring herself to care about the ruined clothes or the image she must make. Because there's something fierce and determined rooting itself in her chest.

 _Such senseless violence_ , she thinks as the Medic goes about checking her.

It's with that thought that Ismae's fate is sealed.

Once she returns to Atrolla she will discuss Starfleet with her mother and father, once she returns to Atrolla she will begin taking courses that will benefit her future as a Starfleet Cadet, but for now... Ismae sucks in a shaky breath and wraps her arms around Leonard.

"Leonard." Ismae breathes against his collar bone, her tears already darkening the fabric of his shirt.

Her friend just holds her tighter.

"I know," Leonard whispers in a voice no steadier then her own. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

Sermari Alrix arrives in Georgia three days later.

Ismae isn't sure how she manages it, isn't sure who she had to threaten to get to Earth in such a short amount of time, none of it matters. The point is she came. She and Henry both. They arrive with three Atrollian soldiers and a plan to rip Georgia apart. Ismae doesn't care though, can't bring herself to care, because her mother and father are there and they look so relieved to see her that whatever havoc they might cause doesn't even bother her.

Instead Ismae throws herself into her mother's arms and sobs.

"It hasn't gone away." She sobs into the finely embroidered fabric of her mother's shoulder.

"What hasn't?" Her mother asks.

In lieu of reply Ismae merely holds up her hand.

Why she's surprised Ismae has no idea. She's read about this. She' understands the concept of what's happening to her.

Biological evolution gave her people the ability to ease another's pain by taking it as their own. During the Great Wars Atrollian generals had been able to take the pain of the soldiers injured in battle to give them a chance to fight or get to a healer, their healers used to use the gift during operations that were more invasive, but now? Now it's a gift her people rarely use.

Save the occasional abusive spouse or accidental injury no Atrollian truly uses the gift anymore.

But that doesn't mean it was lost to them.

When she was little Ismae believed that the black that had always marked Ayja Oreamnos' skin in Diceros Pristaela was war paint. That was before though, before she got old enough to understand what she was reading whenever Shiga tutored her.

 _Pain eaters_ , she thinks as she glances at the black that still stains her once golden knuckles, _a more apt description has never been given_.

"Oh starlight," Her mother breathes as she threads her fingers through Imae's hair, "it'll pass in time."

"When?"

"Don't worry about that right now. How are you doing? Have you spoken to anyone? I want you to meet with one of our doctors." Her mother says.

"Yes, mother."

Sermari sighs before pressing a kiss to the crown of Ismae's head.

"How is your friend? Leonard McCoy?"

"His father has taken him to see a therapist... To help him deal with any possible post trauma from the incident." Ismae says.

"Good." Sermari pulls away, smiling kindly if a bit thinly. "Now, why don't you take me to meet Leonard's parents, hmm?"

Ismae nods slowly.

She hasn't seen Leonard since the incident. Not for lack of wanting to see him, but between his appointments with the woman his father contacted and Ismae's own meetings with the police... Well, there hasn't been much time for the two to really interact. Now's good a time as any she supposes.

It's not like her mother is going to wait.

Either Ismae takes her to the McCoy's or Sermari Alrix will go on her own.

"Yes, mother." Ismae says as she steps back.

Without much thought she adjusts the fabric covering her hair. Grey, the color of mourning on Atrolla and Ismae wears it in honor of the men and women lost in the gunfire that had filled Oslan's diner. None deserved what happened to them, none deserve to be mourned over another. So Ismae keeps her hair in a simple braid and covers her hair with grey fabric, she dresses in plain clothing, and at night she lights a candle for each person lost.

Three humans, five off-worlders.

Seven dead.

Seven candles line her windowsill.

There are twelve in critical condition at the hospital David McCoy works at.

 _You're one lucky kid_ , the healer who'd checked her out in the parking lot of Oslan's has muttered.

But she isn't lucky.

Lucky would mean was never in that diner or that the men who'd attacked them had never done so in the first place, lucky would mean no nightmares, lucky would mean so many things and Ismae hadn't had the strength to tell the man that. She'd just stared at him as he wiped the blood off her face.

"I'll drive." Her grandmother murmurs as she grabs a set of keys from a drawer.

It occurs to Ismae that this is the first time her mother and her grandmother have actually met. Shame that these were the circumstances of their meeting. Had things been different, had Sermari not come with every intent to rip Georgia apart.

 _Maybe next time_ , Ismae thinks as her father leads her out to the transport unit her grandmother has started.

Ismae slides into the back seat at her father's guidance. Her mother is already waiting in the back which forces Ismae to take the middle seat to make room for her father. This was their intention, to make ismae sit between them, she isn't sure who the action is supposed to comfort but Ismae doesn't argue with their decision. She just sits in the middle between her parents and lets her mother hold her hand despite the urge to rip her hand away.

The drive to the McCoy house is tense and too silent.

Beside her Ismae's father is resting a white knuckled fist on his knee and her mother's jaw is clenched.

Rage. This is rage.

Ismae turns her attention away from her parents' barely contained anger and to the house that they're approaching.

Jennifer is waiting on the porch, her face pale and her hair pulled back in a haggard ponytail. She looks like she hasn't slept in days. It probably wouldn't be far from the truth. No one's slept well the past few days. But the woman manages to smile at Ismae's mother as she steps out of the couch.

"You must be Ismae's mother," Jennifer holds out a hand, "I'm Jennifer McCoy."

"Sermari Alrix, it would be a pleasure if the circumstances were different, shall we?" The pink haired Senator motions toward the door.

"Of course, please come in."

Ismae allows her father to guide her into the house where she finds Leonard and David McCoy sitting a the kitchen table. The good doctor must have only just gotten home. There's a lingering smell of antiseptic about him and Ismae doubts he's showered yet. He offers Ismae a tight smile though, looking genuinely relieved to see her safe and well enough.

Returning his smile Ismae glances at Leonard.

He looks like she expected him too.

"Hello Leonard."

"Hello Ismae."

A gentle hand on her shoulder makes Ismae glance up at her mother.

Golden eyes meet gold and a crease appears between perfectly groomed pink eyebrows.

"Starlight, there's much to discuss with Leonard's parents. Perhaps the two of you should step out of the room."

The girl hesitates.

Shouldn't she be able to listen to this conversation? Shouldn't Leonard? They were the ones who'd been shot at. Who'd watched people die... But her mother would never do anything that would hurt her so if she's asking Ismae to go...

"Yes, mother." Ismae moves to take Leonard's hand and guide him from the room.

At least the adults have the decency to wait until the two of them have made it down the stairs and have disappeared from view around the side of the house to start talking.

~X~

"How is your boy?" Sermari asks once the children have left.

Henry has already lowered himself into one of the empty seats and Sermari eyes the last one remaining. She doesn't want to sit. No, Sermari wants to rage and scream and rip this little town apart. But doing so would be pointless as the men who attacked her daughter and her friend are currently occupying space in the morgue.

 _Better_ , Sermari thinks as she too takes a seat, _them then my daughter_.

"He's... He's going to be alright. One of my friend's wife is a therapist and we've been sending Leonard to see her. How is Ismae?" Leonard's mother, Jennifer, asks.

"After all of this is over she'll be speaking with one of our healers." Sermari replies, "Thank you for your concern."

Across from her Leonard's father runs a hand through his hair. He looks tired. Sermari remembers that Ismae had said he was a doctor, it's likely he hasn't slept much since the incident.

Sermari purses her lips for a moment before leaning forward.

"With your permission I would like to ask a few questions about the men that attacked our children." She finally says.

"The Blounts? What about them?"

"I understand that there was an Orion boy found several months ago. Reports from the Law Enforcement Office says that the Blount brothers were primary suspects but never charged. Why is that?"

Doctor McCoy looks vaguely uncomfortable as he moves to rest his elbows on the table.

"Not enough evidence I suppose. The kid's parents had thought he was in school and when he didn't come home they called the police. Took 'em three days to find the body and by then... Well, the body had been washed down creek and there wasn't any enough evidence that the Blounts were involved to press charges." The man says.

"I see."

"The police did keep them in custody for as long as possible though and the case was never officially closed." Sophia adds after a brief pause.

Sermari glances at her and nods.

"And what happened after? Were there any other incidents involving the Blount brothers? I'm aware they tried to hit Ismae with their transport unit at one point over the summer and as they were primary suspects in the Orion boy's case I find it difficult to believe they hadn't attempted to hit her on purpose."

"There was an incident involving a woman from Utah but she wasn't an off-worlder and she didn't press charges." Jessica's voice is soft. "Why do you want to know?"

Henry laces his fingers through hers and offers the other woman a tense smile before saying, "We have every intention of bringing this to the attention of the Federation. Typically we would bring this to the attention of the United Earth but as these are men and women of alien descent being attacked we believe the Federation would be of more help to us."

"We hope that by bringing this to the attention of the Federation then certain laws might be passed to better protect those coming to Earth from different planets," Sermari finds herself grinding her teeth.

If it were up to her Sermari would find every man and woman on this thrice damned planet who ever entertained the idea of harming an off-worlder and skin them alive.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately as Sermari's original plan had been highly illegal on most Federation planets, Henry hadn't been very receptive to the idea and had suggested going to the Federation.

Which is one of the reasons they'd made a point of coming to the McCoy's.

After the incident most of the families of victims hadn't been very willing to speak to a stranger who wasn't a law enforcer while their loved ones were in the Critical Care Unit at the local hospital where Doctor McCoy works. Sermari had respected their wishes and hadn't contacted them again. But she needed to speak with someone who knew about the Blounts, so she'd contacted Jennifer McCoy during the trip to Earth.

It had been... It had been a trip to be sure.

Sermari and Henry had had every intention of surprising Ismae. With neither of them being assigned different tasks they'd thought it would be a good idea to travel to earth so that they could pick Ismae up personally as well as visit with Henry's mother. They'd been well into their second day of the trip when news of the shooting had reached them.

After that, fucking her lover on every surface of their shared quarters hadn't seemed all that appealing.

"So you're going to ask them for new laws?" Jessica asks, the disbelief clear in her tone.

"No. We intend to get new laws passed as well as have them enforced." Sermari lays a palm on the smooth wood of the table, "As Ismae was one of the children attacked in that Diner I believe I may have a certain amount of sway in this matter."

"Oh, I see."

She doesn't.

The Federation Council is made primarily of off-worlders. None of whom will have taken kindly to any attack on an off-worlder. Many of them will be sympathetic to Sermari's cause, especially if one of their people were caught in the attack. An attack that has been the main subject of most news holos since the first reporter arrived at the diner.

There's something to be said about fear and more to be said about anger.

It will not be an immediate change but there will be change none-the-less.

Sermari glances out the window placed over the kitchen sink. Just beyond she can make out Leonard and Ismae sitting beneath a tree, the boy is telling her something interesting enough to make Ismae give him her undivided attention rather then the partial attention she gives to almost everyone. A passing thought to have the boy come to Atrolla for a time flits through the Senator's mind.

Her daughter, while a sweet girl, needs more friends.

Arem Gressh and Kalir Ithys may be her friends but they are the children of Senator's and the only time they ever truly spend much time with Ismae is when they're at the Academy or at political functions. And Leonard McCoy seems a better friend then the two Atrollian children anyway.

Unfortunately Leonard's parents don't seem the type who would allow their son off planet for long period of time, not when the boy himself seems so hesitant around Sermari.

 _No matter_ , Sermari thinks as Henry finishes up the conversation with Leonard's parents, _they'll remain in contact_.

~X~

Leaving Earth is surprisingly easy. Her grandmother and the McCoys travel to the shuttle station to see her off, Leonard promises to Comm her as often as possible, and Ismae's mother allows them to linger on the platform unit the final warning is given through the speakers built into the walls around them. Ismae presses a kiss to her grandmother's cheek, hugs Leonard, and says goodbye to his parents before allowing herself to be lead onto the shuttle.

Her parents allow her to sit by the window, so that she can press her face to the clear surface and watch as the faces of her loved ones fade into nothing.

The trip from the shuttle, through the courier ship, and to the quarters they'll be occupying is relatively silent and when the door has sealed behind them Ismae's mother pulls her close, sighing into her hair.

"Do you want something to eat?" Her mother asks as she guides Ismae to the couch.

"No, thank you but no."

Her mother nods, brilliantly pigmented hair spilling over her shoulders. This is the first time Ismae has ever seen it unbound in public. Typically, Sermari Alrix wears her hair in intricate braids or pristine buns when at risk of running into another Senator or the general public. Today she is not in her finely made clothes nor is hair well kept.

It's... Nice.

Until the low thumo of the replicator makes every muscle in Ismae's body go taut.

Ismae swallows thickly, pulling away from her mother so that she can't hear the rapid thud, thud, thud of her head against her ribs. Somewhere in the back of her mind Ismae takes note of every surface in the room that can be used as a shield. Somewhere is the back of her mind Ismae is fully aware of how awful that is.

A hand on her knee nearly makes Ismae jump out of her skin.

"Ismae? Starlight, are you alright?" Her mother demands, her tone says that she will not take a vague response.

"No."

She doesn't see the point in lying.

"I want you to meet with Kaleesh when we return." Her mother says. "As soon as possible."

Kaleesh Vantier.

Ismae's never met the woman but she'd known in Hallitus to help those who had suffered through traumatic incidents. It comes as no surprise that her mother would want Ismae to see her.

"Yes, mother."

Fingers, soft and nimble, thread through her hair beneath the veil she wears.

"It'll be alright, starlight," Her mother leans over to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, "I promise."

Deep down Ismae doubts that very much.

~X~

Kaleesh Vantier is aged. Her hair, once a lovely periwinkle blue, is now more a hazy blue-grey then anything, and face is lined. It is a kind face. One that does not put Ismae ill at ease when she enters the woman's office. Instead, there is a hesitant sense of not-quite-comfort that has Ismae shedding her jacket and draping it over her lap as she lowers herself into one of the plush cream colored chairs placed before the healer's desk.

She makes sure to chose the chair angled in such a way that Ismae can glance at the door from the corner of her eye without being obvious about her actions.

If Kaleesh notices she doesn't say anything. Instead introductions are made, questions about Ismae's family and friends are asked, and slowly the conversation begins to take a more serious turn.

Kaleesh Vantier asks about the Blount Brothers and the attack on the diner, Ismae answers truthfully, and as the questions continue Ismae finds herself feeling a bit more at ease with the aged female.

"Have you been sleeping well at night?" Kaleesh Vantier asks after a series of inquiries.

"No."

"Why is that?"

Ismae's fingers curl around the fabric of her jacket.

"I keep seeing her face."

"Her?"

"There was a woman... She was shot and I..." Golden eyes drop down to her knuckles for a brief moment before Ismae pulls her eyes away. "I was unable to do much more then take her pain away."

Across from her Kaleesh Vantier stills.

"You took her pain? Have you done this before?"

"No," Ismae's suddenly very aware of the other female's stiffness, "that was the first time I ever..."

"Ismae, have you spoken to anyone else about this? Your personal doctor perhaps? Naturally, an Atrollian would not be able to access their gift until they reached puberty... I understand you're not far off but even so the stress using your gift would have put your body through is something to be concerned about."

"I've already spoken to my family doctor. She'll be seeing me in a week."

"Good," the other female says, "good."

The female writes something down in her PADD before setting the device down.

Ismae frowns.

"May I ask you something?" Ismae inquires.

"Of course."

"Is it... Is it wrong of me to... Well, what I mean to say is that..." Ismae sucks in a deep breath and Kaleesh says nothing. "When that woman died, she died without pain. Or at least, that's what I've come to understand and I was just thinking that... That if I were able to..."

"What is it?"

"You'll think it's silly."

"Nothing you say in this room is silly, Ismae, these are your feelings and your thoughts. I'm just here to help you sort out the more difficult aspects."

Ismae drops her eyes to her hands.

"i want to join Starfleet." She whispers.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I just... Want to help people. I helped that woman and she stopped suffering and I know that Starfleet isn't a military organization but the main purpose is space exploration and there are plenty who need help in space."

"This is true," Kaleesh Vantier says. "What would you do in Starfleet?"

"I... I thought I'd go into tactical training and security... Maybe minor in medicine."

"Why not major in Medicine? Starfleet could always use a doctor."

"No," Ismae shakes her head and raises her gaze to meet the milky gold of Kaleesh Vantier's eyes. "I thought about it but I don't think I'd be able to do it..."

"And why is that?"

Instead of replying to the question Ismae just shrugs her shoulders and glances out the window to their right. She doesn't answer because she doesn't what anyone else to know her reasoning. Because it's selfish. To be a healer would mean being able to help more people but then that also means those people would be hurt already. Ismae doesn't want to heal people after they've been hurt.

She wants to prevent them from being hurt in the first place.

But it's a selfish wish. Cruel almost. Why would she not be a doctor when she has the ability to take people's pain away.

 _Why do you need to be a doctor_ , a voice seethes in her mind, _to help others through their pain?_

She doesn't.

It's just that... Well, being a doctor would probably cause her mother and father less stress in their life. If she were to be a doctor in Starfleet then they wouldn't have to necessarily worry about her being being blasted in the face with a phaser. Even then, there are risks. Even then, Ismae knows she would be miserable.

And at the end of the day that's what makes her decision.

~X~

Telling either of her parents is much harder then one would assume.

There's just... Never any time.

Between her father's diplomatic missions and the Senate meetings and the tiptoeing that seems to be going on in their home Ismae just hasn't found a good time to tell them about her decision to join Starfleet. Which is stupid.

Stupid because she's looked into the programs offered, gotten into contact with one Captain Pike to discuss educational options, and has chosen the plan that would best suit her wants. If she takes a few extra courses over the next few years and excels at them then Ismae will be able to enter the program at seventeen standard years and graduate by twenty. But to do any of this she'll need to tell her parents.

Which is why not telling them is stupid, stupid, stupid on so many different levels Ismae isn't even willing to acknowledge the level of stupid.

Diru's the only one, aside from Kaleesh Vantier, who knows about Ismae's decision to join Starfleet. They both think it'll be good for her, an excellent application of her talents and people skills and thirst for _more_... But then, they also claim that her parents will be open to the idea and Ismae knows that's a lie.

Eventually, all this back and forth over when she's going to tell her parents about Starfleet is going to end up blowing up in her face.

So she takes a chance and hopes it works out for her.

They're in the Capital City for a Senate meeting but before her mother can begin stressing over the data files waiting on her PADD, the same files she's been studying for weeks now, Henry decides to take them all out to a restaurant that sells terran food. It's good. The couple that run it are from Earth and they'd immigrated to Atrolla a few years after Atrolla joined the Federation.

It's a calm little place off the main strip of tourist destinations and political offices.

Ismae's thankful, a calm environment will likely make this a bit easier to manage.

 _Like a band-aid_ , Ismae thinks as the waitress delivers their meal, _do it quick_.

"I'm going to enlist in Starfleet." Ismae says, eyes focused on her steak. "I've already looked into courses and I've looked into other options to make sure this is what I want."

She hasn't.

Neither of them need to know.

"I'm sorry?" Her mother's tone is deadly calm.

Ismae forces herself to meet those burning gold eyes.

"When I turn seventeen I will be traveling back to Earth to take courses at the Academy. I've already contacted Captain Pike and asked his opinion on the matter and I've already looked into courses."

"Did you think that maybe this was a decision to be made with your family?" Her mother practically growls.

"I did." Ismae admits, "But I knew you'd say no and then I wouldn't have been able to look into my options."

This is not a lie.

There's a long moment of tense silence in which Ismae sits and suffers the wrath of her mother's gaze. Many times Ismae has provoked her mother's ire but never her wrath. Mild disciplinary actions, however, have not prepared Ismae for the look she is receiving now. The same look many of her mother's fellow Senator's have received as well.

But before either of them can break under the tension Ismae's father reaches across the table and grazes his fingers over Sermari's silk covered elbow.

"I think," her father says at last, "that this is not a conversation to be had in public."

"No. It is."

"Sermari."

"Why?"

Ismae stares at her mother for a long moment.

"Why?"

"Why enlist in Starfleet? You know how dangerous it can be."

 _You know what happened to the Kelvin._

Everyone knows what happened to the Kelvin. Attacked in destroyed in space, hundreds dead, hundreds saved. The stories are glorified. No one talks about the families of the dead, no one talks about George Kirk who died not knowing if his family would be safe, no one talks about the threat that had appeared out of the great black beyond.

They talk about sacrifice and a baby born in the flashing lights of a damaged escape pod.

Ismae tries to smile, a weak curl of her lip as she looks between her parents.

"You told me once I was born to make a difference." Ismae finds herself saying, remembering a time when Ismae was young and angry and her mother had lifted her into her lap and whispered stories of the Old Ways until sleep had pulled at Ismae's mind. "And I have learned that I am not meant to sit idle when others need me."

In the silence that settles over the table Ismae knows that this isn't settled. Her mother is angry, her father is worried, and Ismae knows that whether or not they approve she will leave Atrolla when she is seventeen and she will take the required courses to get her onto a starship. After that she will make a life for herself among the stars and galaxies and nebulae that litter space.

It's only a matter of time, a matter of patience.

Both of which Ismae has more then enough of.


	9. Chapter 9

As months pass Ismae's parents tentatively warm to the idea of Ismae joining Starfleet. Neither of them will ever be particularly happy with her choice of majors, her father because he claims it's the most dangerous and her mother because she would rather see her daughter chose the Command track, but they're both supportive of her choices and that's all Ismae can really ask for.

Her mother has even gone so far as to contact an old school friend of hers who had gone into law enforcement, a friend who recently left his job after a work injury had rendered his left arm useless. A man named Rafeek who has hair the color of ripe plumes and eyes of pale gold. He is lovely and kind and he smiles whenever Ismae manages to learn something new from him.

There is a tentativeness to their lessons, Rafeek not wanting to push his charge too hard and Ismae not wanting to disappoint but wanting to learn _more_. Not just traditional Atrollian fighting styles, more then how to rip a phaser out of an attacker's hand before they can fire at her, more then how to jam her palm against the exposed neck of someone coming after her.

When she says as much the older man smiles, a kindly twist of the mouth that makes Ismae's heart thump rapidly in the center of her chest.

"Before you can defend anyone, youngling," Rafeek says, voice honey smooth, "you must learn to first defend yourself. Before you can defend yourself, you must learn the basics."

In response to his words Ismae blushes, nods, and allows him to guide her through sets.

The first three months of Rafeek's tutelage is nothing but basic training. Running through the streets of Halitus, going through sets in the garden of Ismae's home, and, towards the end, getting tossed around by a male who has seemingly no weaknesses despite the fact that he is arm never quite moves the way he wants it too.

Rough though the training may be Ismae is thankful for it.

Because she's getting faster, she's running longer distances each day, she's advancing from Atrollian fighting to old Reskoran fighting styles, and little by little she's managing to avoid getting thrown around whenever Rafeek takes her to the training center where most of the law enforcement officers in Halitus go to stay in shape. Males and Females who have become so familiar to her over the weeks that Ismae thinks she could name them just by hearing their voices.

And it's gotten to a point where Ismae finds herself almost more excited to see them then for her lessons.

Like today.

Rafeek is supposed to be picking her up. Instead of their usual routine he has decided on something a bit more challenging. He hadn't said what they'd be doing but Ismae finds herself tapping her feet against the steps leading up to her front door as she waits for Rafeek to come. She only has to wait a few minutes before she sees the familiar grey transport unit moving up her drive.

Without much thought Ismae grabs her bag so that she can make her way down the walk to meet him at the curve in the drive.

He smiles as Ismae slides into the passenger seat.

"Good morning!" Rafeek greets, the accent common to those native to Uwai, a city in the Fahi desert, soft and smooth.

"Hello, Rafeek." Ismae closes the door and drops her bag to rest by her feet. "How are you?"

"I'm well! Are you ready for today?"

"What will we be doing?"

Rafeek glances at her before turning his attention back to the drive so that he can guide the transport unit out into the street.

"It's a surprise." He replies.

"Then how can I be ready?"

His answering laugh is enough to make Ismae blush. If it is something he notices Rafeek is kind enough not to mention it, for that Ismae is thankful. She's not quite sure how to handle herself around Rafeek. At nearly thirteen Ismae is beginning to take a special interest in those people she finds attractive... And Rafeek is... Certainly that.

Chiseled features and soft eyes. He looks like he could have belonged in a holovid in another life.

Ismae tries to be professional as he's much too old for her and a silly girlhood crush is no legitimate excuse to act like an idiot. Besides, Ismae wants to learn what he has to teach her more then she wants to daydream about him. So she'll blush occasionally and maybe she'll laugh a bit too hard at his jokes but Ismae will _not_ risk her goals on something that will fade in time.

But... He is beautiful.

Gorgeous even.

She fixates her attention on the vibrant colors flying past her window, only turning her attention back to Rafeek when he stops the transport unit in a slot at the back of the training center.

"Come on, I'm really excited about this." Rafeek says as he pulls a set of keys out of his pocket.

Ismae shoulders her bag and follows him into the building. She waves at a few of the people making use of the facilities but doesn't linger, her teacher's eagerness catching like Teplan Blight.

By the time they make it to the back room Rafeek has already unlocked the door and turned on the lights.

What's waiting for Ismae when she steps through the door is vaguely intimidating.

Platforms are stacked up against each other with the occasional ramp or obstacle littering the space between. Most of the younger law enforcement officers use this room to ensure they're ready for runners. It's an obstacle course to an extent, only, this course has been programmed to adjust to each individual user's needs. Which means that if Ismae has too hard of a time the obstacle's will get easier to manuever.

Of course, this also means that if it's too easy Ismae's screwed.

She can't help the excited smile that practically splits her face.

"I get to run this?" Ismae finds herself asking.

"Every other day, yes."

"Awesome."

Rafeek offers an amused chuckle before moving to the control panel built into the wall. He hits a few buttons and within seconds the sensory panels built into the course flash brilliant blue.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Rafeek drags Ismae's attention from the course. "We're gonna warm up, run some laps, and then I want you to go through the course a few times."

Ismae doesn't even respond. Instead she kicks off her shoes and moves onto the mats to begin her stretches. She twists and bends and a series of pops from her spine makes her sigh happily. By the time she's sufficiently stretched and warmed up Ismae is a bundle of excited energy and when Rafeek gives her permission to start her laps Ismae is gone.

Ten laps are nothing to her anymore, fifteen are easy enough too, and Rafeek stops her before she can wear herself out.

Once she's walked a lap and wandered back to his side the pale eyed male points at the area he wants her to start at.

"So here's how this is going to work. You're going to start on that platform there and make your way back. I don't care how you do it, frankly I can't give you much advice anyway seeing as I've got the sensors going, but just... Don't get yourself hurt, yes? Your mother would not be pleased."

 _No_ , Ismae thinks delightedly, _she would not_.

"How many times do you want me to run it?" Ismae asks.

And Rafeek's answering smirk should be a warning.

"Oh, you can stop when you manage to get through the course."

Ismae bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet and manages a quick, "Alright." before making her way over to the platform Rafeek had mentioned. She climbs up onto the padding and stares at the course, trying to figure out how she wants to run it.

She is not, unfortunately, expecting the platform to tip sharply to the left.

"Fuck!" It's the only thing she manages to get out as she rolls onto her side, coughing and gasping, trying to get air back into her lungs.

Somewhere behind her Rafeek is laughing.

"Are you alright?" He calls after a moment.

"I'm fine!"

This time when Ismae climbs back onto the platform she's ready.

Barely managing to keep herself from sliding as the platform tosses Ismae moves to the edge of the padding before jumping onto the next platform. She only just makes it as the platform moves forward an inch. Ismae's a decent enough climber though and she manages to claw up onto the top of the padding without getting thrown off.

Her luck ends when she tries to move to the next platform.

She doesn't expect a padded fucking bar to swing up from the ground and smack her out of the course.

"Again." Rafeek demands, when Ismae catches her breath.

And with a bit of hesitation Ismae makes her way back to the starting platform.

Again she is knocked out of the course.

And again.

And again.

Each time she manages to get a bit father, each time she only just manages to pass the point she'd fucked up at before something else catches her unaware. Again and again until Ismae manages to make it to the final platform and back.

By the time she's managed to catch her breath Rafeek has already turned off the course, her progress recorded on a personal data file so that the next time she runs the course the program can make the necessary adjustments.

Ismae is... Not looking forward to it.

"How are you feeling?" Rafeek inquires as Ismae limps over to him.

"Like someone tried to kill me."

Something fond fills the older male's eyes as he gazes at the course.

"The first time I ran this course I broke two ribs and got a concussion." Ismae's eyes widen and he quickly adds, "But you did well for your first time. I'll have one of the androids look you over before we leave."

Ismae isn't sure how she feels about having a medical android look her over. They aren't exactly common. The only places that typically use them are law enforcement facilities and government buildings. She thinks that's only because having a programmed medical android on hand is sometimes easier then trying to find a medical doctor.

But... It would probably be best for her to get looked at before she goes home.

"Alright."

With a jovial nod Rafeek leads Ismae out of the room, through the building, and to the main office where a medical android is tending to a female with a strange burn on her cheek.

So the two of them sit down and wait for the android to make its way over to her. When it does Ismae allows it to scan her and deliver a hypo filled with a mild pain killer. Thankfully the only real injury Ismae has is a sprained ankle. The rest is just bruising.

"We'll, uh, we'll push your lessons back a week." Rafeek decides almost bashfully when they're back in his transport unit.

"Why?"

"Because your mother is going to kill me and you need to take it easy on that ankle."

 _Oh_.

"What will we be doing next time then?" Ismae inquires.

"Not much. We'll try and add another mile to our run and then I think I'll teach you some more sets." Rafeek smiles at her. "We'll put off running the course until your mother cools down."

"Probably a good idea." Ismae admits.

"Probably?"

"Most definitely."

Rafeek laughs, loud and long and hard, and Ismae feels heat in her cheeks but doesn't draw attention to it. Doesn't try to keep him laughing. Instead she turns her attention to the window and curls her fingers around the strap of her bag.

~X~

In the months that pass Ismae manages to add six miles to her daily run, she survives the Course with mostly minimal injuries and only two trips to the hospital, and in time Rafeek introduces her to different fighting styles.

Normally she returns to her home with bronze toned bruises and scabbed over scrapes.

Her parents try not to mention it, try not to think too much about it, because it's easier then worrying and Ismae's alright with keeping them happy until she lands herself in the hospital.

Thankfully Ismae's managed not to get too seriously injured during her sessions with Rafeek which proves favorable for her when the bright eyed male tells her that her mother has given him to take her to Orwai, a little village on the cost toward the west. A lot of fishing is done there, sometimes people go out that way for the peacefulness of it or to dock before heading off to the next continent.

Ismae's never seen it personally.

And as her mother has given her permission and her instructors have given her a week's worth of homework to complete while she's away.

Without much though Ismae packs worn out terran clothes, a nice dress, her PADD, and some gear. Refeek didn't say she'd need to bring anything specific but she's learned that with him it's always best to come prepared. Which means being ready to crawl through mud one second and go to a formal dinner the next. Rafeek's a prick like that.

But when the time comes for Ismae to climb the stairs leading up to the Transport Station she does so all the same.

Rafeek is waiting for her at the receptionist's desk which isn't necessarily out of place. It's certainly not what gives Ismae pause. What does give her pause is the way he's talking to the pretty lavender haired woman behind the desk. Ismae doesn't think the conversation's terribly intimate but then how would she know? So she creeps forward slowly, trying to determine if her presence is welcome at the moment.

Eventually the receptionist spots her, smiles, and motions for Rafeek to turn.

He does.

And when he sees her Rafeek smiles as well before waving her over.

"Ismae, hello! Are you ready to go? We've been scheduled to use Deck Three in about ten minutes." Rafeek glances at the watch strapped to his arm.

"Of course." Ismae looks at the receptionist and bows her head. "Ismae Alrix, a pleasure."

"Na'neen Linig."

After the customary greeting Ismae gives the area around her a look.

People from all over the known universe amble about. Most of them are likely just arriving from the Capital, but there are some Terrans who are being guided to the Transporter Decks. Tourists. They're all tourist. Which is fine, tourists aren't bad, Ismae's just surprised there are so many travelling here at this time of year. It's not quite warm enough for them to be traveling for any of the festivals in Hallitus and the only shows Ismae's aware of have already gone through the run dates.

A hand on her shoulder startles her.

"Come on, we've got to go."

"Of course, it was a pleasure to meet you Na'neen Linig." Ismae says to which the lavender haired female smiles blindingly and wishes them a good trip.

Together, Ismae and Rafeek make their way to Deck Three where the deck's personnel are waiting for them. Ismae steps up onto the platform in the center of the room and waits. Transport technology isn't so different from transport technology used on Starships in the sense that it can move people from one place to another. The only true difference is that instead of taking individual molecules and turning them into energy to be beamed one place or another the transporters used on Atrolla are more like portals.

Portals programmed to interact different transport stations around the world at a given time but portals none-the-less.

It's like being washed in sunlight. Bright lights and warmth and the sensation of something sharp guiding you through empty space. Not unpleasant but not thrilling either. Ismae's almost glad when she sees the dull grey of the Hallitus station change to the off-white of the Korkan station.

The two personnel on the other side of the room greet them, inform Rafeek that there is another transporter waiting to take them to Orwai, and smile thinly at Ismae. She doesn't pay them much attention but she does offer a polite greeting before following Rafeek out of the building to the transport vehicle waiting for them.

Getting from Korkan to Orwai is relatively easy. A thirty or so minute drive on the main roads before veering off and taking an hour long drive through the less populated areas that separate the little fishing village from the rest of the world. When they get in the vehicle Ismae pulls out her PADD and begins doing as much homework as possible.

Rafeek doesn't stop her, nor does her interrupt her.

It's a pretty quiet ride, honestly.

Ismae isn't upset about it though.

Loose rocks occasionally fly up to _thunk thunk thunk_ against the side of the vehicle but that's only because the roads aren't that great and the vehicle they're using is an old model made more for durability then comfort.

This time when the vehicle stops in front of a small living space Ismae is thrilled to leave, stuffing her PADD in her bag and practically throwing herself out of the vehicle while Rafeek tips the driver. She does wave as the man leaves and waits until he's made it around the bend to follow Rafeek into the house.

"Alright, your room is down that hall and to the left. The fresher is at the end of the hall, kitchen is through there... Lunch is in an hour, my parents are both excited to meet you."

"Your parents?"

Rafeek's smile is tinged with bashfulness.

"Yes, my parents, I grew up in Orwai."

"I did not know this."

"Most don't. I don't talk about it much."

"I see... Well, I'll just go unpack then."

This time Rafeek's smile is bright and kind and Ismae's smile is near identical as she makes her way down the hall.

~X~

The first day is spent meeting people and visiting the town. Getting to know the environment in a sense. Orwai isn't a big village but it's not minuscule either. The buildings are made of sandstone and wood, the air smells like roasting meet, and there's smiling faces everywhere.

Rafeek's parents are especially kind.

Neahia Tamam is a kindly woman with greying blue hair and kind eyes, Dy'vyk is quieter but no less kind. They have both given their son their best physical traits and raised him to favor his more favorable personal traits. Good parents. Very good parents.

And so, when Neahia pinches her cheek the first time they meet Ismae doesn't jerk away like she normally would, like she has more often then not since the incident. It seems that this pleases the adults in the room. Which is good, Ismae likes them. Most of the day is spent listening to Rafeek talk about the village and his education and eating Neahia's food and learning to tie nets from Dy'vyk. Little things. Nothing major. That comes the next morning after Ismae's fallen asleep beneath heavy blankets.

As the sun begins to paint the sky a pale orange Rafeek slips into her room and wakes her with a gentle shake.

"Get dressed, we're going to the cliffs." Rafeek says.

Ismae just nods her head and waits for the male to leave before pulling herself out of bed.

 _The cliffs._

Orwai has many cliffs but Ismae had never really looked into them. She'd been too busy reading about the forest surrounding the villiage and the reef where the people catch their fish. Either way, she supposes it doesn't matter. Worn cargo pants and a black tank-top are the first things she grabs out of her bag before changing and slipping on a pair of boots.

It's likely they'll be hiking through the forest at some point.

Ismae doesn't want to do that in a pair of flimsy shoes meant for dinning and dancing.

When she steps out of the room Rafeek is waiting in the hall. A feeling a justification wells in Ismae's chest. Her instructor isn't dressed much differently then she is. The only thing out of place is the mechanical prosthesis that whirls and clicks as Rafeek adjusts it's settings to fit his preferences. It's strange, seeing him with the prosthesis, but Ismae doesn't comment on it.

"Are you ready?" Rafeek whispered, obviously trying to not wake his parents who are sleeping in the room across from the kitchen area.

"Yes." Ismae replies just as softly.

Golden eyes gleam as Rafeek waves for her to follow him out of the small home.

Once they're outside Rafeek tosses her a small, waterproofed pack which Ismae is quick to slip onto her shoulders. It's not that heavy. There's probably water containers and rations in the bag. Ismae's not sure if she should be thankful or worried.

The prosthesis, the supplies.

It doesn't necessarily mean today is going to be fun.

But Ismae follows Rafeek to the treeline behind the house and further still.

Neither speak for a good long while. Ismae merely follows behind her instructor, listening to the avian creatures and occasionally spotting a Bomyalda, a small not-quite-dear-like creature with a long tail more like a lion's and two sets of ears. Gentle creatures, nothing frightening about them, but they startle easily and Ismae's never seen one up close before.

Eventually dirt and grass begins to give way to sand and rock, the sun not even halfway through the sky, and Ismae squints up at the large cliff that looms over them.

"I thought we'd try something different." Rafeek says when they reach the base of the cliff.

"Oh?"

"We're going to climb up the cliff."

 _No beating about the bush here apparently._

Ismae raises a dark eyebrow and Rafeek smiles cheekily at her.

"You're endurance is incredible and your upper body strength is good. The cliff face isn't that impossible to climb... Besides, I thought you would appreciate the challenge."

"I do appreciate a challenge." Ismae retorts slowly, eyes back on the cliff.

"Good. Because I didn't bring along this thing for shits and giggles."

"That is a Terran phrase."

"And you didn't even comment on the arm," Rafeek laughs. "Come on. Let's go."

Ismae follows him across the sand, carefully readjusting her bag so that it's strapped over her shoulders and across her chest. To keep it from falling off or causing her difficulties while she climbs. A daunting task but, like Rafeek said, not impossible.

She starts by getting a solid hold in the rocks.

Up, up, up she climbs.

Rafeek is always a few inches ahead of her, even when his arm begins to whirl and he has to pause to make sure everything is alright with it. For a moment Ismae finds herself envying his training. It had been more then thorough. Not that hers hasn't been. Just different.

Where Rafeek can settle himself against the rock in such a way that it allows him to fiddle with his arm while still secured to the cliff, Ismae is afraid to take either of her hands off of the rocks long enough to wipe away the sweat that's beginning to drip into her eyes.

 _Just a bit further_ , she tells herself when her arms and legs begin to strain, _ju_ _st a bit further_.

By the time she manages to drag herself up onto the grass Ismae is a sweaty, panting mess but... She'd done it.

Laughter spills from between her lips as she rolls to lay with her face to the sky, her feet dangling off the side of the cliff, fingers digging into the dirt. Somewhere to her left Rafeek is laughing as well and for several seconds there's nothing but the distant crash of wave on rock and their laughter.

At some point Ismae pulls herself together enough to pull a water canteen out of her pack. She takes a sip, offers it to Rafeek, and returns the canteen when he refuses her offer.

"I used to come here when I was little," Rafeek says after a moment, "My mother used to bring me."

"It's lovely."

"It gets better."

"What do you mean?"

Rafeek just smiles.

And Ismae watches, both horrified and amazed, as her instructor stands at the edge of the cliff.

He turns to her, eyes bright, and says, "Jump."

Then he is falling and Ismae is moving to look over the side of the cliff. She gets there in time to watch plum colored hair flutter in the wind, to watch as Rafeek disappear in the water, to watch as he reappears and waves at her from the ocean.

Ismae curses in every language she knows how to curse in.

This was not part of the plan.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

"Ok... Ok you can do this."

Before she can over think anything, before she can chicken out and take the long way down, Ismae moves to the edge of the cliff, looks up at the sky, and jumps.

There's a short time between jumping and falling where Ismae is just... There. But then she's falling and her heart is racing and her stomach hurts and she's trying not to scream just before the water swallows her. It's disorienting at first but Ismae's quick to get her bearings and kick back to the surface where Rafeek is cheering for her, congratulating her, smiling at her.

He's proud of her.

Whatever bad feelings she might have had for her instructor dies with a weak sputter, leaving empty space where rage and distrust had tried to take room. Ismae replaces it with laughter and joy and something oddly like exhilaration. She thinks she can taste it on her tongue, her skin, but when she licks her lips there's nothing but saltwater and perhaps a bit of iron.

She follows Rafeek back to shore.


	10. Chapter 10

Sixteen for Atrollians means the end of childhood.

Bodies have matured, gifts have presented, and businesses are reaching out to the male and female students that have managed to catch their interests with exceptional academic skills. Ismae's already turned down three long term jobs as they won't allow her to attend Starfleet if she were to accept them. But jobs and Senate Balls aren't the only thing Ismae gets to look forward to.

She turns sixteen in a week, just one week, and as soon as her birthday passes Ismae can participate in the Fhisel, an old Atrollian ceremony where those in the first year of there adulthood would travel through the jungle of Usneg with nothing but that which they could carry on their back. They'd stay in that jungle for two weeks, surviving on what rations they brought and what they could hunt. By they end of those two weeks they would either be extracted or they would have reached the Temple.

In the old days the Atrollians kept but one deity. A goddess made of starlight and the inkiness of space. A statue in her likeness is erected in the temple, crystal and marble and precious gems carved to resemble the Great Mother. Back then newly turned adults would participate in the Fhisel so that they could gain the goddess' blessing. To prove that they were worthy of it.

Just because science and technology has advanced the Great Mother is still a worshiped deity among the Atrollian people. It's just the Fhisel that has become less popular. Not many of Ismae's people participate in it.

But Ismae's going to.

Because it's not just a test of strength or tenacity. Ismae wants to participate in the Fhisel because it means she survived and she did it on her own.

Rafeek seems to think it's a good idea and her mother hadn't said she couldn't participate when Ismae brought the topic up at dinner. Diru hadn't commented, but Ismae thinks that's because the older male is making an active effort to let Ismae make her own decisions without his interference. The only person who doesn't seem pleased by the idea is her father.

Henry Wolfe had been adamant that Ismae would get herself killed, Rafeek's teachings or no. When Ismae had asked why he'd thought that her father had huffed and sputtered something about children and life threatening situations.

They haven't spoken of it in weeks but Ismae's not going to bring it up until she absolutely has too.

"You know," Shiga says as she finishes reading Ismae's report on intergalactic trade and the benefits of Atrolla's location on the border of the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, "if you were to show this to your father I'm sure he would find it quite impressive."

Ismae looks at her tutor, raises an eyebrow, and turns her attention back to the new books she's received from Diru just last night. She's attempting to arrange them among the rest of the books that occupy the shelves lining the wall on either side of the two windows in her room. Classical paper books, bound in leather and cardboard and worn paper, and personal PADDs with more current literature.

Biographies, educational books, science fiction that isn't really science fiction any more, romance, and fantasy.

They all sit on the shelves, a rainbow of color.

"How is Shyra?" Ismae asks after she slides a particularly thick book onto the shelf.

"I haven't spoken to my sister today, she's visiting our mother, don't change the subject." Shiga retorts.

"I don't know what you want me to say?"

Shiga sighs, "I want you to talk to your father."

"Fortunately, I spoke to him this morning at breakfast."

"That isn't what I meant."

"Yes, I know."

The aged female behind her mutters something about human stubbornness and genetics. Ismae doesn't pay her much attention. Out of the twins Shiga has always been the loud one. Opinionated and proud, she's never kept anything from Ismae that the older female thought would benefit her charge. It wouldn't have been productive during their lessons.

Even so, Ismae doesn't necessarily want to hear what she has to say about her wanting to participate in the Fhisel.

It's not that Shiga doesn't want Ismae to participate, it's more that Shiga wants Ismae to participate so badly that her enthusiasm is starting to wear on the entire household. And it's been Henry that's had to take the brunt of Shiga's attentions.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do? Your birthday is in a few days." Shiga says.

Ismae glances at her tutor and shrugs, "Mother approved of my decision and I wouldn't need my father's permission to participate in the Fhisel since I'll be sixteen."

"So you're actually doing it then?"

"Yes."

She'll feel bad about it later, she knows she will, but Ismae isn't not going to participate in this.

Shiga nods approvingly before standing and making her way over to where Ismae is standing. The closer she gets the more Ismae can see the lines that have appeared on her face. A result, no doubt, of the years she's spent in the Alrix household tending to Ismae.

"Have you spoken to Rafeek?"

"Yes, he has promised to escort me to the southern border of the Usneg. He will also be the one to come find me should anything happen."

"I suspect you know what you're packing, yes?"

"Only the bare necessities."

Shiga nods approvingly, her eyes distant.

Before Ismae can ask if she needs a moment or if she's alright Shiga pulls back, stepping toward the door without so much as a squeak. Ismae watches her go without saying a word and soon the bedroom is empty save for herself.

Ismae shakes her head.

In a week Ismae will be participating in the Fhisel. Rafeek with come to collect her while her parents are at a dinner party, it had been her mother's idea, a way to keep her father from stopping her. It won't be pretty, the argument that will likely spring up between her parents. Ismae's glad she won't have to witness it. Though, she is sad to be the cause of such an argument.

But alas, it is what it is and there isn't much Ismae can do to stop it. Nothing save for giving up the Fhisel. Which is not an option, ever. Ismae sucks in a deep breath, turns her attention back to the books on the shelf, and tries to distract herself with the words of George Orwell.

Distantly she can hear the enraged shrieks of the head cook, it's likely Taj's dog got into the kitchen again. Ismae finds herself smiling despite the heaviness that's attempting to settle over her.

~X~

Three days later Ismae turns sixteen and her family holds a party for her. A small party with some of her school mates and some of Sermari's co-senators. It's a boisterous affair with more alcohol then probably necessary and enough dancing to make Ismae's feet hurt the next morning, it's perfect and distracting and no one talks about the Fhisel. Though, Arem Gressh does kiss her rather soundly before he leaves, the bronze coloring his cheeks as he tells Ismae that it was good to see her again, to celebrate this monumental occasion with her before slipping off to catch the transport unit his parents are climbing into.

Four days after that Ismae watches as her father helps her mother into a coat made of brightly colored blue and silver fur. They both look amazing and in love and happier then they probably have any right to look seeing as in a couple of hours her father will be near to tearing out his own hair. But none of that has happened yet and Ismae's not going to worry about it now.

"Are you sure you don't want to go?" Her father asks for the fourth time this evening.

"Yes, I think I'll stay and read one of the books Diru sent for my birthday." Ismae says.

Her mother smiles, a bit too tightly but a gentle thing none the less, and says, "Come Henry, we mustn't be late."

"Yes, one moment. Just saying goodbye is all."

Then she's being pulled into her father's arm and she's breathing in the scent of spicy terran cologne for a brief second before pulling away. Ismae stares at her father for a long moment. His hair is beginning to grey at the temples and there are more lines around his eyes then she remembers there being but his eyes are gentle and his expression open and Ismae feels a pang of something like guilt as she thinks about the hurt she's going to be putting him through.

"Have fun." Ismae insists, knowing full well her father isn't overly fond of some of the people he will be eating with this evening.

"You too, Izzy Busy Bee."

Her expression must be something fierce because her father near howls with laughter as he steps away to put on his own jacket. Despite the annoyance growing in the pit of her stomach at the nickname Ismae stays in the foyer, watching both of her parents until they've gotten in their transport unit and disappeared from her view. Once she's sure they won't be returning to pick up any lost items Ismae makes her way to her room where she finds Shiga adding things to her pack.

"Bandages, should you need them," The female says, "and some antiseptic ointment too."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

After the older female has closed the pack she turns and offers it to Ismae, who takes it with a sort of hesitance almost unfamiliar to her. Hesitance is not something Ismae is used to experiencing. But she shrugs the pack over her shoulder and gives the older woman a huff.

"If anything happens..."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, child."

"But if it does would you please tell my parents that I'm sorry."

Shiga's hands move to cup her cheeks and Ismae is forced to look up into her eyes as she says, "Listen to me, Ismae... The only people who die during the Fhisel are the idiots. You are not an idiot."

It's not much of a pep talk but it works as well as it can. Ismae doesn't necassarily agree with what Shiga's telling her but the older female's confidence does wonders for her nerves.

"Now, you'd best be going. Rafeek will be here any moment and you'd best be gone before your father returns."

"Yes, of course... Thank you, Shiga." Ismae says before reaching out to gather the older female into a hug.

They hold each other for several moments before Shiga pushes her away and motions toward the door. Ismae nods once before turning on her heel and making her way to the foyer. It's odd, seeing her home so empty. Most of the staff have been left to their own devices and her parents are gone. Ismae feels a bit of guilt over leaving everyone like this, and she'll apologize later for it, but it's too late to back out now.

Rafeek is waiting in the foyer and when he sees her he offers a bright smile and takes her pack from her shoulders.

Neither of them say anything as they make their way to his transport unit and they remain silent as they make their way out of the city. Rafeek hums absently to some song he's listening too and Ismae braids her hair to keep it out of her face. Occasionally, Rafeek makes a comment about what to expect and when he'll come and pick her up and how to contact him if anything goes wrong.

Ismae's thankful for his thoughtfulness and makes sure to remember everything he says in the off-chance that she does end up needing his help. Hopefully she won't need his help but... It's better to be safe then sorry and Ismae's never been one to think herself immortal or invincible. Besides, she's not going to die in some jungle... Not even if it meant Ismae would be remembered as a hero.

She would never do that to her parents.

With a sigh Ismae settles back against the seat and closes her eyes. It's a long trip to the drop zone and Ismae's going to need all the rest she can get before the start of her little adventure.

~X~

The Jungle of Usneg are ominous to say the least. Dark and overgrown with an air of danger that would make anyone just happening upon it balk. Ismae can understand why someone would build a temple here, especially in the years when war were so very commonplace. It was a good place to hide a temple full of gold and jewels and ancient knowledge from the soldiers from Reskore who would burn and steal from any of the temples they found.

Still... Ismae finds herself oddly nervous as she gazes upon the jungle.

Rafeek had dropped her off nearly ten minutes ago, telling her to keep her comm device with her should she need it before leaving as he is supposed to do. This is Ismae's journey, not his, and she'll make it alone if she wants to earn her goddess' blessing.

With a sigh Ismae drops her pack onto the ground and begins sorting through all the the things there in. Best to do it now while she knows she's safe then to do it in the jungle and expose herself to any of the beasts that might try to kill her while her back it turned.

She sorts through the items and catalogs them by their level of importance.

There's a water filter and food bars, a thermal blanket, a lighter, a hand light, a map, and a first aid kit as well as a few extra sets of clothes. Ismae puts them back in their places before sorting through the weapons and tools she'd thought to bring. She's got a small hatchet, two hunting knifes, and should she truly need it a phaser. Ismae returns the hatchet to its spot in her pack but straps the knifes to her belt.

"Alright," Ismae tells herself as she straightens up and slings her pack over her shoulder, "this is it."

And with that the sixteen year old makes her way into the jungle of Usneg.


	11. Chapter 11

"How could you allow her to do this?" Henry asks and Sermari presses her lips into a firm line to keep hurtful words from spilling out of her mouth.

"It was her choice. I could not stop her from going, nor you could." She replies which only seems to agitate the human male further.

She understands his anger, his fear. The Fhisel is not a game, it is not a leisurely stroll through the public parks, many young Atrollian males and females have died in the Usneg jungle. While many more of Sermari's people have participated in the Fhisel and won there are still parents who have lost their children to the dangers of the jungle where the Great Mother's temple lays hidden.

Sermari had not chosen to participate in the Fhisel herself as she had never had any sort of tactical training to begin with and doubted she would survive the two weeks on her own. But Ismae? Her daughter is a fierce girl and of hardy stock. Where Sermari would not have survived the jungle and its dangers Ismae certainly will... She's too stubborn not to.

Is she nervous? Of course.

Ismae is her only child, the only child she will ever have with Henry Wolfe or another Atrollian male, and to lose her would be a devastating thing indeed. But it had been her choice and Rafeek had promised to remain close enough to the jungle that should Ismae run into a spot of trouble she couldn't get out of then he would be able to reach her before anything happened to her.

And yet... Despite the many reassurances from not only Sermari and Rafeek but the Alrix household as well Henry has not stopped worrying in the three days Ismae has been gone. It's beginning to wear on Sermari's nerves.

"Her choice? Sermari, she is sixteen years old! She's a baby!" Henry snarls.

"Ismae is not a child any longer. She is an adult by our cultural standards and she has chosen to undergo a rite that has been available to all newly turned adults since the beginning of our society." Sermari intones, knuckles pale due to the fist she has hidden behind her back.

"How are you alright with this? What if she dies Sermari? What if she gets eaten by a fucking hyena or-or-or, I don't know, falls off a cliff and gets impaled by a tree!" Henry shouts.

"You're being over dramatic."

He's really not.

"Over dramatic? I'm being over dramatic? I'm the only person on this fucking planet who seems to have any goddamn sense! You let Ismae go into a fucking jungle for some religious pissing contest!"

Anger, hot and uncontrollable rages in Sermari's chest.

How dare he. How dare Henry Wolfe, who was raised with Terran customs but taught to accept foreign ones, imply that Sermari's traditions and cultural practices are less than his own! While he might not have said it outright Sermari has heard that tone of voice from members of the Federation before.

Derogatory and undermining.

She'll not stand for it.

"Have you thought that perhaps I am allowing my daughter to prepare for the inevitable, Henry?" Sermari demands, voice chilly and full of contempt.

"Excuse me?"

"Our daughter will be a member of Starfleet soon enough. Do you think she will be satisfied to remain planet-side? If so you clearly don't know our daughter as well as you think you do."

"She's safer on a starship then she is in that jungle!"

"Don't be naive Henry. We both know she's about as safe on a Federation Starship as a newborn puppy is in a den of lions." Sermari spits.

Except, Ismae will be prepared.

Ismae will not be unable to protect herself. She will have all of the necessary training to ensure her safety aboard whatever Starship she is assigned to. Sermari has already begun such preparations by hiring Rafeek to train her daughter. Two weeks in the Usneg jungle, while no doubt a dangerous excursion, will not be what kills Ismae.

Across from Sermari the human man's shoulders slump, the tension draining out of him with a quickness that forces him to sink into the chair he'd risen from when he first began his argument. Sermari studies him for a long moment before reaching out to lace her fingers through his.

"I understand your fears, Henry, and I refuse to judge you for them... But you must understand that this is Ismae's choice. She is not a child any longer, we cannot tell her what to do and how to do it as we were once able too."

"What if she doesn't come home?" Henry whispers.

Something tightens in Sermari's chest as she says, "She'll come home... Your daughter's too stubborn not to come home."

It's a hollow reassurance.

For no amount of stubbornness can keep one from death should the Great Mother will it. Too many families have lost children to the Fhisel throughout history, some still do. Henry has likely read the reports and studies, he's likely run every possible situation that could happen through his head, and he's probably very aware that Sermari has just lied through her teeth.

Rubbing small circles into Henry's hand Sermari wonders if she lied for him or for herself.

~X~

The first week of the Fhisel passes in a rush. Ismae almost can't believe that it's halfway over. Almost can't believe she's made it this long without something truly awful happening to her in the time since she'd first entered the jungle and now.

Sighing quietly Ismae glances at the ground below her before returning her attention to the bandage she'd started wrapping around her thigh.

It's not a terrible wound, in fact, it's downright superficial. Ismae wouldn't be worried about it if she were anywhere else but the jungle isn't the cleanest place in the world and Ismae isn't foolish enough to think that it won't get infected if she leaves it be. So she cleans the wound as best she can, covers it in topical ointment made form a plant she'd recognized from her studies - a bright red flower with purple leaves that can be ground into a paste and used to treat infections, and carefully wraps it in sterilized white bandages.

Already there is a bit of red seeping into the bandage. A thin line that goes from the top of her thigh to end just at the middle of her inner thigh. Without a dermal regenerator the wound will likely scar. But even if it does Ismae isn't bothered by it, so long as she is able to walk and run without hindrance a scar means very little to her.

Once her leg is wrapped and the bandage secured Ismae leans back against the trunk of the tree she'd climbed up and stares out at the jungle through the tangle of leaves and branches that protect her from immediate view. There is a snake in the tree across from the one she's perched in, its blue and silver scales painfully vibrant against the dark charcoal of the trunk and the deep navy of the leaves.

Ismae makes sure there aren't anymore around her.

Because those particular snakes are very, very poisonous. If one were to bite her Ismae would likely die before Rafeek could extract her and get her to a doctor. And so she curls closer to herself and watches as the snake disappears to the other side of the tree.

Deciding that she should probably try and catch a few hours of sleep before heading back out into the jungle Ismae settles a bit more firmly against the tree and closes her eyes. She's asleep within minutes with the sound of distant chirping somewhere in the trees trapped in the darkness that's slowly beginning to descend upon the jungle.

~X~

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose, runs a hand through his hair, counts backward from fifty and still can't seem to settle the painfully tight sensation that's pressing down on his chest. He's supposed to be going over information sent to him by the Federation about some planet they'll be sending him to for negotiations for Dilithium Crystals but he just can't seem to stay focused.

Pushing away the PADD Henry quickly makes his way across the kitchen to the replicator.

When he'd first moved into the Alrix household Sermari had programmed more Terran items so that he'd have something more to his tastes then the incredibly flavored foods and beverages found on Atrolla. He's incredibly thankful for her thoughtfulness because he's been living off of coffee and peanut butter toast for the past nine days.

"You should be sleeping." A woman says and Henry nearly jumps out of his skin as he whips around to stare at Shyra.

"I got caught up in work." Henry offers.

The woman raises a dark eyebrow that tells Henry she believes him about as much as he believes himself.

"She'll be fine, you know." Shyra tells him as she makes her way to the stasis unit.

"So everyone keeps telling me." Henry doesn't mean to sound rude, he doesn't, but he's so fucking tired of everyone telling him to stop worrying.

To stop being afraid for his daughter.

"When she goes to Starfleet will you worry for her as much as you are now?" Shyra asks.

Stiffening Henry raises an eyebrow and says, "She will not be alone at Starfleet."

"You can't be sure of that, Ambassador Wolfe." Shyra closes the stasis unit and levels him with a look he can't decipher. "You aren't the only one worrying for the young Miss. Remember that, will you?"

She's gone soon after, leaving Henry with a bitter taste in his mouth and a pile of work that won't get done before morning.

~X~

Ismae's nearing the end of her Fhisel.

The map she brought with her into the jungle tells the young female that she is incredibly close to the temple. Unfortunately that just means that things are going to get a lot more hairy as she gets closer to the temple.

While surviving on her own in the jungle isn't an easy feet, and Ismae will totally be seeing a doctor when she gets extracted, the Fhisel always gets more dangerous the closer anyone gets to the temple. Because there are tests, trials that one must face in order to gain the Great Mother's approval.

It's different for everyone.

Ismae isn't sure what's going to happen to her but she knows it probably won't be good.

Sighing, Ismae fills her canteen with water and screws the cap back on. After the canteen is back in her pack where it will continue to sanitize the water from the small stream for the next hour or so Ismae adjusts her hood to keep the rain from soaking her hair and settles down onto a large rock so that she can go through the remains of her supplies.

Water is easy enough to come by and there are enough edible plants that Ismae's more concerned about the contents of her first aid kit then she is about her rations. While participating in her Fhisel Ismae has cut herself, bruised herself, and likely sprained her ankle while running from an incredibly pissed of T'lar only the day before so the contents of her medical kit is dangerously low.

But other then that?

Ismae's pretty confident that she'll be fine.

With careful precision Ismae packs away her supplies, swearing softly when she accidentally knocks one of her hunting knives onto the ground. She doesn't even think about it, she just leans over to pick up the dropped weapon and then promptly cries out when something sharp shoots out of the darkness to pierce the top of her hand.

Ripping her hand back Ismae watches through horrified eyes as an iridescent insect vaguely similar to a Terran scorpion slinks out of the shadows cast by the rocks and into the sunlight. Ismae doesn't recognize this insect. She doesn't remember ever learning about it from Rafeek. Which means that it's easier a brand new species and Ismae is dead as dirt, or, this is the beginning of the final trial and she's in for a rough couple of hours.

Ismae stumbles away from the insect, from her pack, and tries not to vomit as the veins in arm begin turning plum colored.

~X~

 _Why do you run?_

The woman standing across from her is undoubtedly human. She wears heavy robes and her hair is cropped short, covered by a heavy brown scarf that matches her soulful eyes.

"Who are you?" Ismae demands.

 _You should rest._

"I cannot rest... Not yet."

Falling into step beside Ismae the woman merely watches her for a moment before offering a very tender smile. It's motherly. Ismae takes a bit of comfort in seeing it because her own mother smiles like that. Damn, she misses her mother. So very, very much.

 _Have you ever read Robert Frost?_

"The poet?" Ismae trips over a root and falls against a tree.

It's better then falling into the mud.

 _Yes, I adore his work._

"I've never read any of it..." Ismae pants, her body aching with the venom that has been pumped into her system. "What is you favorite?"

Conversation distracts her from the pain.

The woman hums softly as she considers what Ismae said.

 _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening._

"Ah."

With gritted teeth Ismae pushes herself off the tree and down the barely visible path that should take her to the temple. It's hard to focus on her map but what she has been able to make out through her blurring vision and drowsiness tells her that if she keeps heading the way she's going then the temple should pop up sooner or later. She hopes that she doesn't die before she gets to the temple.

The end of her Fhisel is coming upon her and Rafeek will likely be waiting for the signal to extract her.

If she doesn't give him the signal...

 _My son enjoys Frost. He pretends not to but I know. A mother always knows._

"You've a son?"

 _Yes, he is about your age I suspect._

"That's nice."

There's a sound of warning form the woman that Ismae doesn't catch before her body is rolling down a small slope of mud and foliage. Once she stops rolling Ismae claws at the mud to help her drag herself up onto her hands and knees. It's hard to keep from puking when the world is spinning as violently as it is but she manages to keep her meager breakfast down.

 _You should rest, dear._

"No."

 _You won't get any father if you don't rest._

"I can't."

 _Oh honey, of course you can._

"You don't understand," speaking is beginning to hurt, "I can't stop now."

 _Why not?_

"Because I have to get to the temple."

 _Why do you need to get to the temple so badly?_

Yes, why?

Ismae wants to tell her that it's because she will not be another statistic. That she won't fail to do something that her people have been doing for years. But that's a lie. She doesn't want to lie.

So why does she keep going?

Choking back tears Ismae rocks back to sit on her heels, face upturned, eyes closed. if the woman is still standing in front of her Ismae isn't sure. She doesn't know if she even wants to know if the woman's still here.

 _Why do you want to go to the temple?_

The answer pours out of her mouth before she can stop it, "Because I have to prove to myself that I can."

A quiet little hum is the only thing Ismae hears from the woman before a hand is smoothing back the wild, greasy pink strands of her hair that have slipped out of her ponytail. It's a gentle touch and the thing that inevitably makes Ismae face a very terrible possibility.

"I'm going to die." Ismae mutters, her hands limp and numb in her lap.

Everything is getting heavy; her legs, her arms, her entire body is just numb at this point.

 _No darling, you're not going to die._

The woman's eyes are no longer brown. Now they're endlessly black with smudges of purples and greens and twinkling white stars. A galaxy is trapped in this woman's eyes and Ismae finds herself captivated.

 _You're going to rest_.

Ismae barely registers the fact that her body has slumped to the ground before darkness overtakes her vision.

~X~

It takes Ismae a moment to realize that she's not dead.

Which, you know, is absolutely terrifying because she absolutely should be dead. But it's also a relief to feel soft grass beneath her fingers and hear the distant sounds of jungle animals around her. Dying hadn't been on her list of things to do during the Fhisel but it'd been looking like a very likely possibility for a moment there.

Groaning, Ismae peels her eyelids open and takes in her surroundings.

Everything is bright and colorful and full of light.

it's a stark difference to the dark, drab, ominous place where she'd collapsed.

Ismae picks herself off the ground and tries to stamp down the giddiness that's building in her chest. If she's here, in this place, and still alive then it can only mean one thing. She's made it to the temple of the Great Mother. Spinning around Ismae immediately catches sight of the large statue that makes up the Great Mother's image, the jewels embedded in the pale stone gleaming in the sunlight pouring into the clearing.

"Holy shit."

Holy shit is right.

She fucking made it.

 _She fucking made it._

With a cry of exuberance Ismae sprints to the statue and kneels before the base to offer the Great Mother her thanks and to recite the prayer she'd been practicing over the past two weeks. As the words from the old tongue pour out of her mouth Ismae digs her offering out of her bag and rises to place it in the Great Mother's outstretched hands.

Something tells Ismae that the Great Mother is pleased with her and the offering Ismae has left for her. It's a peacefulness that settles in Ismae's bones and a lightness in the atmosphere around her. Whatever happened during her trail, it's all a blur of pain and brown eyes, must have proven her worth to the the Great Mother because when Ismae glances down to see if she has gained the Great Mother's favor there is a delicate swirl of gold that circles her wrist.

The mark will fade in time but the fact that she has one is enough to make Ismae cry.

"Thank you." Ismae says as she rubs her thumb over the divine tattoo.

She remains standing at the base of the Great Mother's statue for a moment longer before a strong breeze forces Ismae to close her eyes. When she opens them again Ismae finds herself standing in the exact location Rafeek had left her at two weeks prior at the beginning of her Fhisel, only this time the Usneg jungle seems less intimidating then it had days ago.

With a broad smile Ismae pulls the emergency comm unit out of her pack and presses down on the little button in the center.


End file.
